<^ y< \, 












»l|V 






V v 







- 

&TIONERS C 

1856. 



THE ENTIRE WORKS 

OF 

ROBERT BURNS; 

WITH AN 

ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE, 

AND 

A CRITICISM ON HIS WRITINGS. 

TO WHICH ARE FREFIXED, 

SOME OBSERVATION'S ON THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION 

OF 

THE SCOTTISH PEASANTRY. 

By JAMES CURRIE, M. D. 

T,;E .'Oo'.t V0LUJ1ES CCM.LFTE I ; OXF,' 
*"ITH ' • • y . ■ 

AN ENLARGED AND CORRECTED GLOSSARY 



3tahTcrr> 'i-triaon. 



EMBELLISHED WITH 
AN ORIGJXAL DESIGXFROM THE COTTER'S SATURDAY SIGHT. 



LONDON: 

ALLAN BELL & Co., AND SIMPKIN & MARSHALL ; 

OLIVERS: BOYD, EDINBURGH; 

W. CURRY, JCN. & CO., DUBLIN ; AND BANCKS & Co., 

MANCHESTER. 



CAPTAIN GRAHAM MOORE, 



OF THE ROYAL NAVV. 



When you were stationed on our coast about twelve years ago, you first re- 
commended to my particular notice the poems of the Ayrshire ploughman, whose 
works, published for the benefit of his widow and children, I now present to you. 
In a distant region of the world, whither the service of your country has carried 
you, you will, I know, receive with kindness this proof of my regard; not perhaps 
without some surprise on finding that I have been engaged in editing this 
work, not without some curiosity to know how I was qualified for such aD 
undertaking. These points I will briefly explain. 

Having occasion to make an excursion to the county of Dumfries, in the sum- 
mer of 1792, I had there an opportunity of seeing and conversing with Burns. 
It has been my fortune to know some men of high reputation in literature, as 
well as in public life, but never to meet any one who, in the course of a single 
interview, communicated to me so strong an impression of the fcrce and versa- 
tility of his talents. After this I read the poems then published with greater in- 
terest and attention, and with a full conviction that, extraordinary as they are, 
they affbtd but an inadequate proof of the powers of their unfortunate author. 

Four years afterwards, Burns terminated his career. Among those whom 
the charms of genius had attached to him, was one with whom I have been 
bound in the ties of friendship, from early life— Mr John Syme of Ryedale. 
This gentleman, after the death of Burns, promoted with the utmost zeal a sub- 
scription for the support of the widow and children, to which their relief from 
immediate distress is to be ascribed ; and, in conjunction with other friends of 
this virtuous and destitute family, he projected the publication of this work for 
their benefit, by which the return of want might be prevented or prolonged. 

To this last undertaking, an editor and biographer was wanting, and .Mr 
Syme's modesty opposed a barrier to his assuming an office for which he was, in 
otfier respects, peculiarly qualified. On this subject he consulted me ! and with 
the hope of surmounting his objections, I offered him my assistance, but in vain. 
Endeavours were used to procure an editor in other quarters, but without effect. 
The task was beset with considerable difficulties ; and men of established reputa- 
tion naturally declined an undertaking, to the performance of which it was 
scarcely to be hoped that general approbation could be obtained, by anv exertion 
of judgment or temper. 



]>KI»1< Wl<.- 

HI office, rnj |>la<e of n-idence, mjr accustomed «tudlri, and rr>y 
occupation, wen cortainiv little suited ; but iJn- | ><• thought 

me in other respects not unqualified ; and his solicitations, joined to those of our 
excellent friend and relation Mrs Dunlop, and of other friend? of the family of 
the poet, I hare not been able BOW difficulties which would 

otherwise have been insurmountable, Mr Syme and Air Gilbert Bums made a 
journey to Liverpool, where they explained and arranged the manuscripts, and 
arrant;, il Bach a> te em ed worthy of the press. From this visit I derived a de- 
gree of pleasure which has compensated much of my labour. I had the satis- > 
faction of renewing my personal intercourse with a much valued friend, and 
of forming an acquaintance with a man closely allied to Bums, in talents as well 
as in blood, in whose future fortunes the friends of virtue will not, 1 trust, be 
uninterested. 

The publication of this work has been delayed by obstacles which these 
gentlemen could neither remove nor foresee, and which it would be tedious to 
enumerate. At length the task is finished. If the part which I have taken 
shall serve the interest of the family, and receive the approbation of Rood men, 
I shall have my recompense. The errors into which I have fallen are not, I 
hope, very important : and they will be easily accounted for by those who 
know the circumstances under which this undertaking has been performed. 
Generous minds will receive the posthumous works of Burns with candour, and 
even partiality, as the remains of an unfortunate man of genius, published for 
the benefit of his family, as the stay of the widow, and the hope of the fatherless 
" To secure the suffrages of such minds, all topics are omitted in the writings, 
and avoided in the life of Burns, that have a tendency to awaken the animosity 
of party. In perusing the following work, no offence will be received, ex- 
cept by those to whom the natural erect aspect of genius is offensive ; characters 
that will scarcely be found among those who are edticateti to the profession of 
arms. Such men do not court situations of darger, nor tread in the paths of 
glory. They will not be found in your service, which in our own days, emulates 
on another element, the superior fame of the .Macedonian phalanx, or of the 
Roman legion, and which has lately made the shores of Europe and of Africa, 
resound with the shouts of victory, from the Texel to the Tagus, and from the 
Tagus to the Nile! 

The works of Burns will be received favourably by one who stands in the fou-- 
DHMt rank of this noble service, and who deserves his station. On the land or 
on the sea, I know no man more capable of judging of the character or of the 
writings of this original genius. Homer, and Shakspeare, and OsMan, cannot 
■•<lways occupy your leisure. This work may sometimes engage your atten- 
tion, while the steady breezes of the tropic swell your sails, and in another 
quarter of the earth, charm you with the strains of nature, or awake in your 
memory the scenes of your early days. .Suffer me to hope that tlu> I 
times recall to your mind the friend who addresses you, and who bids ;ou mo<t 
v -adit i'. I 

.'. CI 



i 



ROBERT BURNS; 



A CRITICISM ON HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 



IVHICH ARE PREFIXED, 



OBSERVATIONS ON THE SCOTTISH PEASANTRY. 



.. 



CONTENTS. 



PREFATORY REMARKS. 

IN IBS CHARACTER AND C 



Effects of the legal establishment 
of parochial schools — of the 
church establishment— of the ab- 
sence of poor laws— of the Scot- 
tish music and national songs — 
of the laws respecting marriage 
and incontinence — Observations 
on the domestic and national 
attachment of the Scots 

LIFE OF BURNS. 

Narrative of his infancy and youth, 
by himself— Narrative on the 
same subject by his brother, and 
by Mr Murdoch of London, his 
teacher — Other particulars of 
Bums while resident in Ayrshire 
—History of Burns while resident 
in Edinburgh, including letters to 
the Editor from Mr Stewart, and 
Dr Adair— History of Burns while 
on the farm of Ellisland, in Dum- 
fries-shire— History of Burns 
■while resident in Dumfries— his 
last illness — death— and character 
— with general reflections 

Memoir respecting Burns, by a 
lady I 

Criticism on the Works of Burns, 
icluding observations on poetry 



n the S 
emarks . 









GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE. 



2. To the san 
5. To the same 

4. To the same .... 

5. To Mr John Murdoch, 15th Jan. 






1783, Burns's former teacher; 
giving an account of his present 
studies and temper of mind . i 

6. Extracts from MSS. Observa- 
tions on various subjects . i 

7. To Mr Aiken, 1786. Written 
under distress of mind { 

S. To MrsDunlop. Thanks fo r 
notice. Praise of 
S;r William Walla 

9. To Mrs Stewart of 
ing a poem on Miss A . i 

10. Dr Blacklock to the Rev. G. 
Lowrie, encouraging the Bard to 
visit Edinburgh, and print a new 
edition of his poems there . i 

11. From Sir John Whitefoord . i 

12. From the Rev. .Mr Lowrie, 22d 
December, 1786. Advice to the 
Bard how to conduct himself in 
Edinburgh { 

13. To Mr Chalmers, 27th De- 
cember, 1786. Praise of Miss 

Burnet of Monboddo . . i 

14. To the Earl of Efilinton, Jan. 
17S7. Thanks for his patronage . i 

15. To .Mrs Dunlop, 15th Jan. 
1787. Account of his situation 
in Edinburgh ... J 

16. ToDr Moore, 1787. Grateful ac- 
knowledgment 



Dunlop 



o Mrs 



17. From Dr Moore, 23d Jan. 1787. 
In answer to the foregoing, a id 
enclosing a sonnet on' the Bard, 
by .Mis. Williams . . . il 

IS. To Dr Moore, 15th February, 
17N7 < 

19. From Dr Moore, 28th Februarv, 
1787. Sends the Bard a present 
of his " View of Society and man- 
ners," &c. . . . i 

20. To the Earl of Glencairn. 17S7. 
Grateful acknowledgments of 
kindness c 

21. To the Earl of Buchan, in reply 
to a letter of advice . . j] 

22. Extract concerning the monu- 
ment erected for Fergusson by our 



CONTENTS. 



25. To ■ , •ooompan; 

fo re goin g 1 

, S:h .March 

1787. Good advice . i 

Mrs Dunlop, 2J I 
1.787. 



n the s; 



r Mo 



•, 23d Ap 



."I 



io Mrs Dunlop, 3Uth 
.April. Keply to Criticisms 

Rev. Di Bl 
May. Written on leaving Edin- 
burgh, Thanks for his kindness 
50. From Dr Blair, 4th Ma;, in re- 
ply lo the preceding 
"1. Kro.n Dr Moot 

I I lici-m and good ad- 



82. From Mr John Hutchison . < 

33. To Mr Walker, at Blair of 
Athole, enclosing the " Humble 
Petition of Bruar Water to the 
Duke of Athole" i 

34. To Mr G. Burn,, 17 h Sent 
Account of his tour through the 
Highlands i 

36. From Mr Ramsay of Ocbter- 
■- rre, 22d October, enclosing 
Latin Inscription i, with I 
tions, and the tale of Omeron 
Cameron i 

a Mr Walker 

37. From Mr A M . D 

ss. M r Ramsay to the Rer. W. 

Young, 22d Oct. introducing our 
poet i 

59. Mr Ramsav to Dr Blacklock, 
27th Oct. Anecdotes of Scottish 
Songs for onr Poet . . 1( 

10. From Mr John Murdoch, in 
' jndon, 28th Oct. in answer to 



— , Gordon Castle, 
, acknowledging 
) Lady Charlotte 



No. 5 
II. From Mr- 
31st Oct. 17 

Gordon. 

: the Rev. J. Skinner, 14th 

i.-r, 17S7. Some account 

of Scottish Poems . . l( 
-3 From .Mrs ,80th Nov. en- 
closing Erse Songs, with the 

Dalrymple, Esq. Con- 

gratu 

i ord Glencairn II 
16. io Mrs Dunlop, 21st Jan. 
17SS. Written on reel very tr. -in 

h Feb. 

,I|W.U.,H . II 

H bo bad beard that be had cidj 

I hex . . . ii 

m, 81 t Mart h, 



in Dunlop, 2Mh April, 
giving an account of his pro- 
■ 

51. From the Kev. J. Skinner, 28th 
April, 1788, enclosing two 

one by himself, the other 
Buchan ploughman, the 
printed at large 

52. To Professor D. Stewart, Bd 
May, Thanks for his friend- 

53. Bxtract 'to Mrs Dunl V 
May. Remarks on Dry dens \ ir- 
gil, and Po] e*l < (dj! sej . 107 

54. To the same, 27th May. Gene- 
ral Kctlections 

55. To the same, at Mr Dunlop's, 
Haddington, 13th Jane, 17^. Ac- 
count of his marriage . lb. 

56. Io Mr P. Hill, wiih a present 
of a cheese 

rs Dunlop, 2d -\ . 
1768. With lines on a he 
age ih. 

58. Tc the same, 10th A . 
Firther account of I i- Man 

the same, ICth August. 
Keilections on Human lift 

Ui.i. Jo K. Graham, K-q. of Fin- 
try. A petition m v< rse for a si- 
tuation in the Kxcise . Ill 

61. To Mr P. Hill, 

Criticism <n a poem, entitled, 

u" 112 

62. To .Mrs Dnnlop, at Mouhani 
Maines, 13th November . 113 

03. To x*'*, 8th Nov. Defence of 
thefamilv of the S( 



with the sol.; 

to me ■ pint of wine" . 1 

who had heard he had been m.ik- 
ing a ballad on her, enclosing 
that ballad 

66. To ^ir John Whitefoord . i 

67. From Mr (i. Ban 

' mil p. 1st .'.m. Re- 

(he dav . i 

count of his situation and pro- 

T . I ,. I'.i -h,.p I ;. ,1.1c-. 3.1 Fit iu irv. 

Ac .-nut ol 

1 
; I. From the Rev. P. • 

January, 1789. Requesting advioa 



as to the publishing Mr Mylne's 
poems ib. 

72. To Mrs Dunlop, 4th March. 
Reflections af.er a visit to Edin- 
burgh . . . . US 

73. To the Rev P. Carfrae, in an- 
swer to No. 71 . . 119 

74. To Dr Moore. Inclosing a poem ib. 

75. To Mr Hill. Apostrophe to 
Frugality . . ib. 

76. ToMrsDunlop. With a sketch 
of an epistle in verse to the 
Right Hon. C.J. Fox . 120 

77. To Mr Cunningham. With 
the first draught of the poem on 

a Woundod hare . . 121 

78. From Dr Gregory. Criticism 

of the poem on a Wounded Hare ib. 

79. To Mr M'Aulav of Dumbarton. 
Account of his situation . 122 

SO. To Mrs Dunlop. Reflections 
on Religion . . . ib. 

81. From Dr Moore. Good advice 123 

S2. From Miss J. Little. A poetess 
in humble life, with a poem in 
praise of our Bard . . ib. 

83. From Mr . Some account 

of Ferguson . . .121 

8 1. To Mr In answer . ib. 

85. To Mrs Dunlop. Praise of 
Zeluco ... 125 

86. From Dr Blacklock. An epis- 
tle in verse . . . 126 

87. To Dr Blacklock. Poetical 
reply to the above . . ib. 

88. To R. Graham, Esq. Inclos- 
ing some electioneering ballads ib. 

89. To Mrs Dunlop. Serious and 
interesting reflections . 127 

90. To Sir John Sinclair. Account 
of a book society among the 
farmers in Nithsdale . 128 

91. To Mr Gilbert Burns. With 
a prologue spoken in the Dum- 
fries Theatre. . . 129 

92. To Mrs Dunlop. Some ac- 
count of Falconer, author of the 
Shipwreck . . ib. 

93. From Mr Cunningham. In- 
quiries of our Bard . . 130 

91. To Mr Cunningham. In reply- 
to the above . . . 131 
95 To Mr Hill. Onler for books ib. 

96. To .Airs Dunlop. Remarks on 
the Lounger, and on the writings 

cf Mr Mackenzie . . ' 132 

97. From Mr Cunningham. Ac- 
count of the death of Miss Bur- 
net of Monboddo . . 133 

93. lo Dr Moore. Thanks for a 

present of Zeluco . . ib. 

99. To Mrs Dunlop. Written 

under wounded p>ide . . 134 
100 To Mr Cunningham, 8th 
August. Aspirations after in- 
dependence . . ib. 



101. From Dr Blacklock, 1st Sep- 
tember, 1790. Poetical letter 

of Friendship . . 15£ 

102. Extract fromMr Cunningham, 
14th October. Suggesting sub- 
jects for our poet's muse . 13T 

105. To Mr Dunlop, November, 
1790. Congratulations on the 
birth of her grandson . ib 

104. To Mr Cunningham, 23d 
Jan. 1791, with an elegy on 
Miss Burnet of Monboddo* . ib. 

105. To Mr Hill, 17th Jan. In- 
dignant Apostrophe to Poverty 136 

106. From A. F. Tvtler, Esq. 12th 
March. Criticism on Tam o' 
Shanter ib 

F. Tytler, Esq. in reply 



to the abo-* 
108. To Mrs Dunlopjlh February, 
1791. _ Enclosing his elegy on 



137 



li 0. 



Burnet 

Lady W. M. Constable, 
acknowledging a present of a 



snuff-box. 

110. To Mrs Graham of Fintry, en- 
closing " Oueen Mary's Lament" ib. 

111. From the Kev. G. Baird, 8th 
February, 1781, requesting as- 
sistance in publishing the 
poems of Michael Bruce . ib. 

112. To the Rev. G. Baird, in re- 
ply to the above . . 139 

113. To Dr Moore, 26th February, 
1791, enclosing Tam o' Shan- 
ter, Sec. ib. 

114. From Dr Moore, 29th March, 
with remarks on Tam o' Shan- 
ter, &c. . . .110 

115. To the Rev. A. Alison, 14th 
Feb., acknowledging his present 
of the "Essays on the Principles 
of Taste," with remarks ou the 

116. "iV Mr' Cunn'inghairi, 12th 
March, with a Jacobite song, &c 141 

117. ToMrsDunlop, 11th April. 
Comparison between female 

high and humble 



11th 



life 

118. To Mr Cunninghar 
June, requesting his interest for 
an oppressed friend . ] : 

119. From the Earl of Buchan, 
17th June, 1791, inviting over 
our Bard to the coronation of 
the bust of Thomson oo Ednam 
hill i 

120. To the Earl of Buchan, in 
reply . . i 

121. Frcm the Earl of Buchan, 
16th Sept. 1671, proposing a 
subject for our Poet's muse . 14 

122. To Lady E. Cunningham, en- 
closing " The Lament for 
James, Earl of Glencairn" . i 



• lli Am, he. Bta • 

mind ai'ur mebn itl< n . 1 

1/1. From >ir John Hit 

1-amenl on James, Karl of Glen- 
eaJro," . . .li 

125. From .\. F. Tythr, K ,,. ■>:,), 

ihe \> tent . il 

1:6. J'u.Mi D.ivi,-. Apology for 
neglecting her commands- 
moral reflections . . 11 
i .7. lo MrsDunlop, 17th Decern- 
ber, enclosing " Ihe sang of 
Death" ii 

I /"J. to Mrs Dunlop, 5th January, 
179.;, acknowledging the present 
of a cup. . . II 

I.- William Smellie, 22d 
January, ii.;ruducing Alls Rid- 



il. To Mr Cunningham, 3d March, 

nissions his aims to 

be cut on a seal — moral rcflec- 



132. 



o Airs Dunlop, 22d August, 
account of his meeting with 
Miss I. B , and enclos- 
ing a song on her 

133. To Mi Cunningham, 10th 
Sept. Wild Apostrophe lo a 

134. To Mrs Dunlop," 24th 'Sep- 
tember. Account of his 
family 

"' To Mrs Dunlop. 



150 



r . Letter of 
condolence under affliction . lb. 
i.'ii. T.> Mr, Dunlop, 6th Decem- 
ber, 1792, with a poem entitled, 
" The Ri^hi., "i Woman" . ib. 

1.-7. To .Miss If of York-, 21st 

March, 1793. Letter of Friend- 
: .!iin .... 151 

13S. To Miss C , August, 

Character and tempera- 
ment of a poet • . 152 

Jol n Vl'Murdo, Ksq. De- 
icniber 17'!.". Ki-]i:niiiKiiioiif\ ib. 

>:,-, 11 , advi i 

what pl.tv to bespeak .it the 
Dumfries 1 heatre . 153 

voiir of a Flav- 
or's Benefit • • lb. 

142. Extract toMr , 1794. 

On his pro.- peels in the Excise ib. 

i I",. To Mrs It 

III. 'I . i 1 

lings . 151 



lion on the happiness of Mr 
— . . . 1= 
, requesting 

: B !. lent to a dc- 
I fi lend - - LS 

Mr i imningham, '.-.'Mb F. b- 

1794. Melai 

. i —thiering prospect! of 
a happier world . . i 

Supposed 

to be written from " The dead 
to the living " . \t 

152. lo MrsDunlop, 15th Dec.m- 
. 1795. Reflection.- 
situation of His family, 



the same, in London, 20th 
ber, 1795 

154. To Mrs R , 20th January', 

17'jii. Thanks for tlie travels 
ofAnacharsis . . 16a 

155. To Mr» Dunlop, ."1st January, 
1796. Account of ihe Death of 
bis daughter, and of his own ill 
health ... ib 

156. lo Mrs R , 4th June, 1796. 

Apology for not i/oing to the 
birth-night assembly . . ib 

157. To Mr Cunningham, 7th 
Juh, 1796. Account of his ill- 
ness ami of his jnjverty — antici- 
pation of his death . I5S 

58. To .Mr- Dunn. Sea-bathing 

affords little relief . lb, 

159. To Mrs Dunlop, 12lh Julv, 
1796. Last farewell . lb. 

FOE vs. 

_ „ie twa dogs : a tale . . IK! 

Drink 
The author's earnest CTJ an I 

to the Scotch teprecentulTas In 

ihe House of Commons 
The Hoi} Fair . . . 16^ 

1 it-ath and Dr Hornbook . 171 

..(Ayr . . . 17. 
Ill,- Ordination ... I 

the I alt' 17' 

Address to the Dell . . 17< 

The death and dying words 

I 
Foot Mailie's Elegy 
To J. S*** 



17> 
1 

I8l 
Ihe 



lilp 
a i temporal} 

■ 



1 be \ ision 

the Unco Gnid, c 
Rigidly Righteous 

i „,i >.„;,,„'. Kiegy ; 

Halloween .... 

The Aul.l 

to l.i, Auld 
. 

. • . 

\ u Inter Nlgnl 



The Lament 

Despondency : an Ode 

Winter: A Hirge 

The Cotter's Saturday Night 

Man was made to Mourn: 
Dirge .... 

A Prayer in the Prospect of Death 196 

Stanzas on the same occasion . 

Verses left at a Friend's House . 1 

The First Psalm 

A Prayer .... 

The first six verses of the Nine- 
tieth Psalm 

To a Mountain Daisie . . 1 

To Ruin 

To Miss L , with Beattie's 

Poems, for a New- Year's Gift 

Epistle to a Young Friend . 1 

On a Scotch Bard gone to the West 
Indies 

To a Haggis . . . . 'i 

A Dedication to G . H , Esq. 

To a Louse, on seeing one on a 
Lady's Bonnet at Church . i 

Address to Edinburgh . . 5 

Epistle to J. Lapraik, an old Scot- 
tish Bard 



i celebrated Ruling 



Epitaph 

Elder z 

on a noisy Polemic 

on Wee johnny 

for the Author's Father 

for R. A. Esq. 

forG. H.E^q. 

A Bard's Epitaph 

On Captain Grose's Peregrina- 



To the same .... 205 
Epistle to W. S- 
Epistle to J. _ 

John Barleycorn : A Ballad 

A Fragment,' ' When Guildford 
good our Pilot stood,' . . il 

Song, 'It was upon a Lammas 
Nighty 2C 

Song, ' Now westlin winds, and 
slaught'ringguns, . . il 

Song, * Behind yon hills where 
Lugar flows,' 2( 

Green grows the Rashes : A Frag- 
ment ..... il 

Song, 'Again rejoicing Nature 

Song; ' The gloomy Night is gather- 
ing fast' .... 21 

Song, « From thee, Eliza, I must 
go' il 

The Farewell, to the Brethren of 
St James's Lodge, Tarbolton 21 

Song, * No Churchman am I for to 
rail and to write . . it 

Written in Friar's Carse Hermitage il 

Ode to the Memory of Mrs , 

of .... 21 

Elegy on Captain Matthew Kender- 

Lament of Marv Queen of Scots' 2 i 
To Robert Graham, Esq. of Finery 21 
Lament for James, Earl of Glen- 



Lines sent to Sir John Whitefocrd, 
with the foregoing Poem . i 

Tam o' Shanter : A Tale . i 

On seeing a wounded Hare a fellow 
had Shot at .... 2: 

Address to the Shade of Thomson 2 



bosom fire, 
On the death of John M'Leod, 

Esq i! 

Humble Petition of Bruar Water 22 
On Scaring some Water Fowl . il 

Written at the Inn in Taymouth 22 

at the Fall of Fytr.s . il 

On the Birth of a Posthumous Child il 
The Whistle .... 22 
Second Epistle to Davie, a Brother 

Poet 22 

On ray Early Days il 

Song, ' In Mauchline there dwells 

six proper young Belles * . 22 
On the Death of Sir James Hunter 

Blair il 

Written on the blank leaf of a copy 

ot the Poems presenttd to an old 

Sweetheart, then married . il 

The Jolly Beggars : A Cantata 22 
The Kirk's Alarm : A Satire . 22 
The twa Herds ... 22 

The Henpecked Husband . 23 

Elegy on the year 1778 . . il 

Verses written on the Window of 

the Inn at Carron • . il 

Lines delivered by Burns on his 

Death-bed .... ii 

Lines delivered by Burns at a Meet- 
ing of the Dumfries-shire Volun- 

A Vision ". '. '. '. '. 24 
Address to W. Tytler, Esq. . 21 
To a Gentleman who had sent a 
Newspaper and offered to con- 
tinue it .... 24 
On Pastoral poetry . . il 

Sketch New Year's day . 24 

U:i Mr William Smellie . 21 
On the Death ot Mr Riddel . a 
nscription for an altar to indepen- 
dence il 

Monody on a Lady famed for her 

caprice .... it 
Answer to a Surveyor's mandate 2<. 
Impromptu on Mrs 's Birth- 
day 24 

To Miss Jessy L . it 

Extempore to Mr S e . il 

Dumfries volunteers . . 24 
To Mr Mitchell il 
To a Gentleman whom he had of- 
fended it 

On Life, addressed to Col. De 
Feyster .... il 



Epitaph on a Tricnd 
Dinner 

..to .Mrs Dun Ion 
On taking li 

5 
Written in Friara-Carse Hermitage, 

on Nithside .... 
Kpisile to K. Gratis 
On seeing a Wounded H;.re . 1 

kiock . 

Prologue . 

Elegj on the late Miss Burnet of 
Monhoddo 1 

. 

tenelie 

INDEX TO THE POETRY, 

IN THE ALPHABETICAL ORDER OP 1 



Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond 



i'J f a' the yowes to the knowe. 
! Clarinda, misirt-ss of my MOl 

• breast 11 A 
• i «i' little and rantj wi' 
ib. mair .... 

• the man, the poorest 

life . . . 2 _ n 

— . the fleest, paukie thief ITS 

i Deluded swain, th«- • . - 1 

O'J ])oes haughty Gaul invasion threat i4* 

1 1 Duncan Gray came here to woo 860 

geon ^ark . 218 

- 

Expect na, Sir, in this narrat: : 

I ; on Devon bank^ 
Fair fV your honest, sonde face 2uO 
Farewell thou sUeam that wind- 

. . . . 268 
Farewell thou fair d»j. lion green 

earth, and ye skies 
Fate gave 'he word, the arrow sped 240 
Plow gently, sweet Aft on, among 

thy green braes . . . 239 

For lords, or kings I dinna mourn V!30 

J 1 



Admiring Nature in her 

grace 

Adown winding Nith I did v 



n thee, Eliz . 
ne is the da*, and 



nrk's the 



Again rrjoicing Nature sees 
Again the silent wheels of time 
A guid New -year I wish thee, Mag- 






; fitch to me a pint o' wine . 
Green grow the raffles, l > 

Guid morning to your 
Had I a cave ou some 

Hail. Poesj 1 thou Nymph re- 

*hare ye gaun, ye crowlin 



ferlie 

as auld K seen the 

Dell IS 

tar, Land o' Cakes, and brither 



- in death d 



s stiff 



Ah ope, "Lord Gregory, thy door 

All hail ! inexorable lord 

Among the heathy hills and ragged 

woods 

A nee mair I hail thee, thou gloomy- 
December .... 
A rf for ane and twenty. Tarn 
An honest man here lies at rest 25C Here awa, there awa, wandering 

Anna, thy charms my bosom tire 219 Willie 

A rose-bud by my early v.. i,k . .\:4 The same altered 
As down the bum they took thiir Here Souter 

way '-'77 sleep .... 

As I stood by von roofless tower ! 1 1 He who of R— k-n sang, li 

i- and her lambs thegithcr 177 and dead .... 

Awa -wi' your witchcraft o' In auty's Here is the glen, and here the 

alarms . . . . 241 bower ..... 

A 1 ye wba live by soups o' drink 1! 'J Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear 

. where the Scottish Muse im- 
Behind ion lnhs where Lugai mortal lives 

flows in ray poor heart be glad 

Behold the hour, the boat arrll 
J., low thlr Btanes lie Jamie's bams SIS 
Blvthe, blythe and mi rrj wni she 232 
■ 
tree thing, cannl 

thing 

But law ' 

i . . ■ i 

', at the close of 

the nay . . . Ill 

( .in -.t tiiou leave nie Lbo . 

K.ity 



t bosom which filly 



once fired 

How i riu 1 .ire the parental 

■ ■ the ni| 

: 

w Inding Di took . . . 11 

Husband, husband a 
1 call no . 



I lang hae thought, my youthfii' 

friend 199 

I mind it weel, in early date . 223 
I'm three times doubly o'er your 

debtor ib. 

In Mauchline there dwells sis pro- 

per young belles . . . 224 
In simmer when the hay was mawn 257 
Inhuman man! curse on thy bar- 
barous art .... 217 
Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you 

a toast 230 

I sing of a whistle, a whistle of 

worth 222 

Is there a whim-inspired fool . 21 H 
Is there, for honest poverty . 296 
It was the charming month of May 29' 
It was upon a Lammas night . 208 
Jockey's ta'en the parting*kiss . 219 
John Anderson my jo, John . 235 
Keen blaws the wind o'er Donnocht 

head 288 

Ken you ought o' Captain Grose 250 
Kilmarnock wabsters, ridge an' 

claw 174 

Kind Sir, I've read your paper 

through 243 

Know thou, O stranger to the fame 2l S 
Lament in rhyme, lament in pro^e 177 
Lassie wi' the lictwhite locks . 291 
Last May a braw wooer cam down 

the lang glen .... 302 
Late crippled of an arm, and now a 

leg 211 

Let me wander where I will . 282 
Let not a woman e'er complain 289 
Let other poets raise a fracas . 1 ■ 
Long, long the night . . 29S 

Loud blaw the frosty breezes . 251 
Louis, wh.it reck I by thee . 240 
Mark yonder pen, pa 
Maxwell, if merit here you crave 287 
Musing on the roaring ocean . 252 
Mv Chloris, mark how green the 

groves 290 

My curse upon your venom'd slang 219 
Mj heart is a-breaking, dear lit- 

lie 255 

My heart is sair, I darena tell . 240 
Mj honoured Colonel, deep I feel 21$ 
My lord, I know v.. U r nobie ear 220 
Mv loved, mv honour'd, much re- 
spected friend . . . 195 
My Peggy's face, my Peegy's form 2:0 
Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair 215 
No churchman am I for to rail and 

to write 211 

No more of your guests, be they 

titled or not .... 247 
No more, ve warbiers of the wood, 

no more 215 

Now in her green mantle blvthe 

nature arrays .... 295 
Now Nature hangs her mantle 

green 213 

Now simmer blinks oa flowery 
braes ' 251 



Now spring has clad the grove in 

green "00 

Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers 275 
Now westlin' winds and slaughter- 
ing guns 208 

O a' ye pious godly flocks . . 229 
O bonny was yon rosy brier . 301 
O cam ye here the right to shun 244 
O condescend, dear charming maid 2S2 
O death I thou tyrant fell and 

bloody 212 

O gin my love were yon red rose 269 
Ufa' the airts the wind can blaw 254 
O had the malt thy strength of mind 24S 
Oh open the door, some pity to 

show 263 

O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has 

gotten . . . . . 265 
_ Lassie art thou sleeping yet . 297 
O leeze me on mv spinning wheel 237 
O leeze me on my wee thing . 259 
Old Winter with his frosty beard 247 
O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide 269 
O love will venture in where it. 

darena weel be seen . . 258 
O Mary, at thy window be . 263 
O May, thy morn was ne'er sae 
-weet ..... 241 
mirk, mirk is this midnigb.tb.OTUr 262 
mickle thinks my love o" my 
beauty . 236 

O my luve's like a red red rose . 24 1 
Once fond'.v loved, and still remem- 

ber'ddear .... 224 
O poortith cauld, and restless love 260 
O Philly, happy be that day . ^ 293 
Opuress'd with grief, oppress'd 

with care 1 

O rough, rude, ready-witted R — 
Orthodox, orthodox, wha believe 

John Knox .... 
O saw ye bonnv I.esly . . 

O saw ye my dear, my Phely . 
O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, 



192 

201 



i • 



>' wind and r; 



O tell i 

O this is no mv air. lassie . . i 

O Thou dread' Power who retgn'st 

O Thou Great Being, what thou 



ib. 



O Thou pale otbi that silent shines 191 
O Thou, the first, the greatest friend 197 
O Thou unknown. Almighty Cau^e 196 
O thou ! whatever title suit thee 176 
O Thou who kindlv dost provide 250 
O Tibbie, I hae seen the day 






241 

249 



O wha is she that 1< 

O were I on Parnassus' hill . zo* 

O were my love von lilach fair . 270 
O whistle and ill come to you, my 

lad 273 

A variation in the chorus . . 300 

O Willie brew'd a peck o ? maut 254 

O wert thou in the cauld blast . 247 

O ye wha are sae guid yoursel . 183 



O ye whose cheek the tear of pity 



llight Sir ! jour text I'll prove it 

Sad thy tale, thou idle page . 2 
Sae flaxen were her ringlets . 21 
•Scot-, wha hae wi' Wallace bled 2 
Seii-ibility how charming . . 2 
She is a winsome wee thing . Si 
She's fair and Cause that causes my 



Thicke 

in B 



' :■'} 



Should auld acquaintance b= forgot 278 
Sing on, sweet thrush, upon thy leal- 
less bough . . . . 217 
Sir, as ycur mandate did request 216 
Sleep's! thou, or wakest thou, fairest 

289 



Slow spreads the gloom my soul de- 
sires ..... 239 
Some books are lies frae end to end 170 
Stop, passenger ! my story's brief 213 
>Sta\, niv charmer, cjn you leave me 231 
Sn , my Willie— yet believe me 291 
Streams that gliue in orient plains 43 
Sweet fa's the eve on Cragie-bum 2L>G 
Sweet ilow'ret, pledge o' meikle 



The Calrine woods were yellov 

The day returns, my bosom burns 
The fiicnd whom wild from wis 

dom's way .... 

The gloomy night is gath'ring fast 210 
The hunter lo'es the meniing sun 2bU 
Hie lamp of day, with ill-presaging 

glare 224 

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let 

foreign lands reckon . . 298 
The lazy mist hangs from the brow 

of the hill .... 233 
The lovely lass o' Inverness . 240 
The man, in life, wherever placed 197 
The poor mail weeps— here G n 

The simple Bard, rough at the rus- 
tic plough .... 

The small birds rejoice in the green 
leaves returning 

The smiling spring comes in rejoic- 
ing 

The Min had closed the winter day ISO 

The Thames Hows proudly to the 

235 



'1 here's suld Rob .ilorris that w 
in yon glen . . . . 2t 
l.i aw, braw lads on Yarrow 

hraes 2< 

There was ■ lass and she « - 
There was once adaji but old Time 

li.tiyojiig ... 'J 

1 re three kings into the 



night o'erhangs my dwell- 



251 



I, my faithful fair . 

Thine be the volumes, Jes>» fair 247 
This dav, 1 inu winds th' exhausted 

chain 214 

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie . 27-i 
Thou of an independent mind . 24 5 
Thou sweetest minstrel of the groTe 282 
'1 hou whom chance may hither lead 211 
Thou, who thy honour as thy God 

215 



'Tis friendship's pledge, mj young 
fair friend . . . . 30 1 

to Crochallan came . 245 

'Twas e'en, the dewy fields were 

'Twasin thai place o' Scotland's isle }63 
True hearted was he, the sad swrun 

o' the Yarrow 2(74 

Turn again, thou fair Eliza . 2.37 
-- her bonnie blue e*e was 



_ my n 



I S 



Upon a simmer Sunday mo 
Upon that night, when fairies light 1S5 
We cam na here to view jour \\ . rk .-. 'z3U 
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped (lower 19S 
Wee, sleek.it, cow'rin, tiin'rous 

beastie 189 

What can a young lassie, what shall 

a young lassie . • . 23(5 

When biting 1 oreas fell and doure 189 
When chapman billies leave the 

street ..... 215 



251 

When (iuilford good our pilot stood 207 
Wlun Iva. : e \ird 225 

When o''er the hill the eastern star 266 
Wh.n wild war's deadly blast was 

blawn 365 

Where are the joys I hae met in the 

morning 

The same with an additional stanza 280 
Where braving nngrj winter's 

2"2 



202 

While larks with little wing . 
While new-ca'd kye rout at the 
stake ..... 

While virgin spring, by Eden's tleod gi7 
U iule \sinils li'.ie .itl'Tien Lomond 

bliw 190 

Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know 218 
\\ liv 1111 1 loath to leave this earthly 

1Y6 

Wh\, why tell thy lover . . BOS 
\\ h'v, ve leiKintsof the Like 

V.-.S 
Mary 257 

1 'Mh0U be . 



. 






With musing deep, astonisb'd stare 182 
Ye banks, and braes, &c. . 258 
Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon '258 
Ye Irish lords ... 166 



MR THOMSON AND MR BURNS. 

1. Air Thomson to Mr Burns. 1792. 
Bard to furn: 

. » of the ScotL 
airs, and to revise former songs 255 

2. Mr B. to Mr T. Promising as- 



3. Mr T. to Mr B. With some tunes 256 

4. Mr B. to MrT. With 'The 
Lee Rig,' and ' : Will ye go to the 
Indies, my Mary* . . ib. 

5. Mr B. to Mr T. With "My 
■wife's a winsome wse thing,' and 

' O saw ye bonny Lesley' . 257 

6. Mr B. to Mr J'. With ' High- 
land Mary' .... 258 

7. Mr T. to Mr B. Thanks and 
critical observations . . 259 

8. Mr B. to Mr T. With an addi- 
tional stanza ' The lee Rig* ib. 

9. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'Auld 
Rob Morris' and 'Dunean Grav' 2C0 

10. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'O 
Poortith Cauld,' &c. and'Galla 



Wate 



ib. 



24. .Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Blythe 
hae I been on yon hill' $ . 

25. Mr B. to Mr T. With *0 
Logan, sweetly didst thou glide' 
— ' O gin my love, J &c. . 

26. Mr T. to Mr B. Enclosing a 
note— Thanks ! 

27. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' There 
was a lass and she was fair ' . 

28. Air B. to Mr T. Hurt at the 
idea of pecuniary recompense — 
Remarks on songs 

Mr B. Musical ex- 



271 



Mr T. For Mr 



11. Mr T. to Mr B. Jan. 1793. 
Desiring anecdotes on the origin 
of particular songs. Tytler of 
Woodhouselee— Plevel— sends P. 
Pindar's ' Lord Gresorv.' Post- 
script from the Hon'. A. Krskine 261 

12. -Mr B. to Mr T. Has Sir Tel- 
ler's anecdotes, and means to 
give his own— sends his own 

• Lord Gregory' . . 2G2 

15. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Mary 
Morrison* .... 263 

14. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Wan- 
dering Willie' ... ib. 

15. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' Open 
the door »o me, Oh !' . ib. 

16. Mr B. to Mr T. With • J^sie' 261 

1 7. Mr T. to Mr B. With a list of 
songs, and ' Wandering Willie' 
altered .... ib. 

18. Mr B. to Mr T. ' When wild 
war's,' &c. and* Meg o' the Mill' 265 

19. Mr B. to Mr T. Voice of 
Coila— criticism— Origin of 'The 
Lass o' Patie's Mill" . . ib. 

20. Mr T. to Mr B. . . 267 

21. Mr B. to Mr T. Simplicity re- 
quisite in a song — one poet should 
not mangle the 'works of another ib, 

22. Mr B. to Mr T. ' Farewell, 
thou stream that winding flows' — 
Wishes that the national music 
mav preserve its native features 26S 

23. Mr T. to Mr B. Thanks and 
observations ... ib. 



29. Mr 
pression 

30. Mr B. 
Clarke .... 274 

31. Mr B. to MrT. With ' Phillis 
the fair' .... ib. 

32. Mr T. to Mr B. Air Allan- 
Drawing from ' John Anderson 

33 D M J r°B. to .MrT. With 'Had I '.' 
a cave,' &c. borne airs common 
to Scotland and Ireland . ib. 

34. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' By Al- 
lan straam I chanced to rove* 273 

35. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'Whis- 
tle and I'll come to you, my lad, - 
and -Awa wi'your bellesand your 
beauties' .... ib 

36. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' come 

let me take thee to my breast* 274 

37. Mr B. to Mr T. * DaintieDavie' <75 

38. Mr T. -to .Mr B. Delighted 
with the productions of Burns' 
muse ib. 

39. Air E. to Air T. With ' Bruce 

to his troops at B.innockburn' ib. 

40. Air B. to Ml T. With 'Be- 
hold the hour the boat arrive' 'J76 

41. Air T.to AlrB. Observation* 

on ' Bruce to his troops' . ib. 

42. Air B. to Air T. Remarks on 
songs in Air T.'s list—His : own 
method of forming a song— 
' Thou hast left me ever, Jamie' 
— ' Where are the joys I hae met 

in the morning'— ' auid Iangsyne* 277 

43. Mr B. to Air T. With a varia- 
tion of ' Bannockburn' . 279 

44. Air T. to Air B. Thanks and 

45. Air B. to Air T." ' On Ban- 

I nockburn*— sends * Fair Jenny' 280 

46. Mr B. to Air T. With ■ Delud- 

i ed swain, the pleasure'— Remarks 281 

47. Air B. to Air T. With ' Thine 
| ami, my faithful fair' — 'O con- 
: descend, dear charming maid' — 

— ' The nightingale'—' Laura — 
I (the three last by G. Turnbull) i!> 
45- Air T. to Mr B. Apprehen- 
sions—Thanks . . . 283 
: 49. Air B. to Air T. With 'Hus- 
band, husband, cease your smie' 
1 and ' Wilt thou be mv dearie* ib. 
50. Air T. to Air 
ancholy eomi 



i-Ji. 



Bums and Cnrlini— Mr Allan 
has begun .1 sketch Iron, the Cot- 
tar's Saturday .N iKlit . '/ 

SI. MrB. to Mr 1. Braise of Mr 
Allan—' Hanks of< 
J. Ml II. I.. .Mr T. Hovel in 
France—' Here «1. 
tish Muse Immortal live-.,' pre- 
sented to Miss Graham of Fin- 

53. Ml T. to Mr*B. 'Does' not ex- 
pect to hear from I'level BOOD, 
hut desires to be prepared Willi 
the poetry .... 

51. MrB. to MrT. With < On the 
seas and far away' 

:,:,. Mr T. u. .Mr li. Criticism ! 

66. Mr B. to Mr T. With ' ( .V 
the yowes to the knowes' 

57. .Mr B. to MrT. With 'She 
says she loes of a'—' O let me 
in,' &c Stanza to Dr Maxwell 286 

58- Mr T. to Mr B. Advising him 
to write a Musical Drama . ! 

50. Mr T. to Mr B. Has boerj ex- 
amining Scottish collections — 
Ritson— Difficult to obtain an- 
cient melodies in their original state 

60. Mr B. K. Mr U . 

producing a love-song — ' Jjaw jo 



-"J he lover's 



the nighf- 

complain'- 

ing salute to his mistnss'— ' The 

Auld Man'—' Keen blaws the 

wind o'er Donnochthead,' in a note 

CI. Mr T. to Mr I 

knew the inspiring Fair One— 
Ritson's historical t».iv not inte- 
resting— Allan— Maggie I.auder 290 

G i. .Mr ii. to Mr T. Has begun his 
Anecdotes, &c — * My Chloris 
mark how green the groves' — 
£ove — ' It was the charming 
month of May'—' Lassie wi' the 
lint-white locks'— History of the 
Air • Ye hanks and braes o' bon- 
ny Doon'— James Miller— Clarke 
—The black key; — Instances of 
the difficult v ol inning tlic origin 

of ancient airs ... ib. 

63. Mr T. to Mr B. With three 
copies of the Scottish a r, . 292 

CI. Mr B. to Mr T. With 'O 
l'hilly, happy be thai da> — starl- 
ing note— ' Contented wi' little, 
and canlie wi' mair- 
thou leave me thus, inv Kalv'— 
(The reply, 'Stay my Willht— 
vet believe me,' in a noti 
and horn .... 

i, -j. Mr I. to Mr 1(. 1'rais, | 

more tongs of the bumnrotu cast 

IVelll 

• The Soldier's Return' 

B. to Mr T. \\ 'ill, >Mj 

Nannie's a* a* . . . lb. 



67. Mr 1!. to Mr I 

. •■ :, 

- '. Mr li. to Mr T. 'O lassie, 
art Uiou sleeping yet,' and the 

He I. 'Dispraise of 
Kctlefechan' . . . ib. 

■ir B. Thanks . ib, 

~l. Mr B. to MrT. 'Address to 
the Woodlark'— ' On Chlori. be- 
ing il.'— 'Their groves o' sweet 
myrtle,' Ace, — ' Twas na her bon- 
ny blue e'e,' Arc. . . S9i 

73. Mr T. to .Mr B. With Allan', 
design from * The Cottar's Satur- 
dav Nighf .... 'IV. 

7 1, MrB. to .Mr T. With ' How- 
cruel are the parent*,' and 
'.Mark yonder pomp of costly 

75. Mr B. to Mr T. Thanks for 
Allan's dosigns ... Ib 

76. .Mr 1. to. Mr B. Compliment ib 
77- MrB. to MrT. With an irn- 

.. provement in ' Whistle and I'll 

come to you, my lad' — 

no my ain lassie' — ' iN'ow Spring 

has clad our groves ho 

bonny was yon rosie brier' — • 1 is 

Friendships pledge, my young, 

fair friend' • . * . ."l> 

78. Mr I. to Mr B. Introducing 

Dr Brianton . . . 3'' 

li). lMr B. to Mr T. « Forlorn my 

love, no comfort near* . it 

SO. Mr li. to Mr T, • Bast May a 

braw,' &c. — ' Why, why tell tliy 

gment . '. • 30 

81. MrT. to Mr li. . . II 

82. Mr 1. to Mr li. 1796. After 
an awful pan^e 

S3. MrB. to MrT. Thanks fori'. 

Findar, Ac ' Hey for a lass wi' 

'l 

84. Mr T. to Mr B. Allan has de- 
signed someplatesfor anSvo. e<u- 

S5.'Mr B. to Mr T.' Afflicted by 
sickness, but pleased with .Mr 
Allan's etchings . . il 

SB. Mr. T. to Mr B. Sympathy— 
encotn m mi Dl . . 30 

B. to MrT. With ■ 

a health to We I lo'e dear' . i! 

88 .Mr a M .'Mr T. int. 

Mr Lewart — Has taken a fancy to 
I to re- 

s.\".Mr li. to Mr' I 

.i maid on Devon 
90. Mr . 

vu i - .■ t" be 

published bj subscript! 
published iM Iliad so • * 



LIFE 



ROBERT BURNS. 



PREFATORY REMARKS. bloody convulsions in wbish both < 

the island were involved, and which 
any of the siderable degree, concealed from th 



THOUGH th 












if lie. 












ihTtc^n.?;:" 


.led i 
u,d 1. 


- P' «•■' 


ey< 



■nits of manners. Since the Union, Scotland, though 

J,n red the >ea( of l«u unsuoee.-sful attempts to restore 

of taste in ever." " 'is. Ti,e a comparative ir -.i^uilit; ; a..d it'is since- this 

tress of his infant family, 'have been felt in a ' measure formed, though 

been known : and these posthumous voium.es. to the preuous acts of ber separate legislature, 

which give to the world his works complete, A slight acquaintance with the peasantry of 

mid which, it is hoped, may raise hi* widow Scotland, will serve to convince an unpreju- 

nud children from penury, are printed and pub- diced observer, that they possess a degree of 

lished ill England. It seems proper, therefore, intelligence not generally found among the- same 

to write the .Memoirs of his life, uot with the class of men in the other countries of Europe, 

riew of their being read bv Scotchmen only. In the verv humblest condition of the Scottish 



been represented to be, a Scottish peasnnt. dialect, a Btranger will discover that they pos- 

To render the incidents of his humble story sess a curiosity, and have obtained a degree of 

generally intelligible, it seems, therefore, ad- information, corresponding to these acquire- 

acter and situation of the order to which he These advantages they owe to the legal pro- 

bclonjed.—a class of men distinguished bymany vision made by the parliament of Scotland in 

more correct notion of the- advantages with eic-ry parish throughout the kingdom, for the 

surmounted. A few observations on the Scot- which may challenge comparison with any act 

tish peasantry will^ot, perhaps, be found of legislation to be found in the records of his- 

: ''•cot- ends' in view, the" simplicity of the means em- 
ire ; meansWectual to their purpose. This exce!- 
dent nation, has been successfully explored. Charles II. in IGoO, together with all tha 

then formed; the nation then presented features ral assent It 

similar to those which the feudal system and slept during the reifns of Charles and James, 

inodilied, indeed, by the peculiar ua'ure of Ler tv the Scottish parliament, after the Revolution 

territory and climate. The Reformation, by in 1696 ; and this is the last provision on the 



by a 






Access ,„ of the Scotti 


sh m'o'uarchs to 


the per : od o" 


t" Tile 


uglish throne; and th 


a period which . 




•h th 








rendered memorable, c 


ihielly by those 


inordinary 





m\Movr> cabinet Lmmrir. 



■ peciailj as ill'- Mlbj.:ct I 

lb-.- notice of .ill 111.' historians. 

By an act of the king (James VI. 
council, of the 10th of December, 11 



illli the heritors (land proprieto 


rs). =nd the 




ipeclive parishes in their 


espective dioceses. 








d, and sure 


course" for 


etiling and entert 


ining a sch 




larish. This was ra 


titled by a st; 
ap. 5.)whir 


uteofChar. 


. (the act, 1U33, ct 


empowered 


he bishop, with the 


consent of th 


■ heritor, of 


a parish, or of a mojority of the it 


habitants, if 


he heritors refused 






assess every plough 


of land ftl 




arm, in proportion 


o the numbe 




upon ,1) with a certn 






school. This was a 


i inetl'ectual 




lepending on the co 


nsent and pi 





modify a salary for 
The salary is ordi 



presbytery of the .1; i 

uiuinuti.ni of the person proposed committed tc 

ih. in, boUl M i" In- qualification 

and as la fa ; in the ollici 

il therefore Only a presentment ol 

the approbation of the presbyter! ; who, if they 
find bun unfit, m i] declare hie ini 

thus oblige them 10 elect nin.\. 

ti.m.il.le authority. * 

inconsiderable al the tin. 

the decrease in the value of moo 



paiufal'to observe, iliut the landholders of 
Scotland r. 



will be 1.6189 Bterlinr. U 

»ages paid by the scholars to amount 
this sum, which is probably beyond 
the truth, the total of the expences anion; 
1,586,499 p'rsons (the whole population of 
Scotland) of this most important establishment 
rill be L. 18,417. But on this, as well as on 
ither subjects respecting Scotland, accurate in- 
formation may soon be expected ban - i 
Sinclair's Analysis of his Statistics, which will 

- I to his patriotism. 
The benefit arising in Scotland from the m- 
ruclion of the poor, was soon felt ; and by an 
:t of the British parliament, i Geo. 1. 
, it is enacted, •• that of the mo 
from the sale of the Scottish estat. -. 

""" of 1715, L. 2,000 sterling shall 
to a capital stock, the interest of 

ling schools in the Highlands. The Society 
propagating Christian Knowledge, incor- 
porated in 170'J, have applied a lar^e part of 
their fund for the same purpose. B 
port, 1st May, 1 795, the annual sum employed 
try them, in supporting Iheii schools in the 
lii-blan.is iin.l Ulan -. 
1U.;. in which are taught the Ku^i.-ii 
reading and writing, and the prin. •', 
ligion. The schools of the society are addi- 
tional to the legal schools, which, from the 
Lre.it extent of n roftheH ...j, parishes, 
were found insufficient. Besides these estab- 
lished schools, the lower classes of people in 

I re the parishes are la 
combine together, and establish private schools 
oftli.il own, at one of which it was that Burns 
red the principal part of his education. So 
peopi. 



al part ol 



xperience, of the 1 



it though they may o 



■"■'■.'' 

of the .uiraos 
Whether a s)>tem of national 

the poor be favourable to mi 
government ? In the year 161 

this day in Scotland, two hui 

people begging from door to duoi 

ill.- number of them be perhaps 

.1 waa formerly, b> raaaoo 

ne then prevailed) yet 
been about one hundred thi 

lathers ince.ln 

own .1 in -bier.. Ill- son with tile 

ili.- brother will, the -i ■■ 
- ... ili.it ii . in 



though 









n bap., 



mem. The clergyman, being every wheif 
Vi.-iilont in his particular parish, Iic-nm the 
:. antral [iatri.ni and =u[Hrinleniiaiit of the parish 



they are lo be 
pettrally t!mi 
lighting tua'et; 



EVENS PREFATORY REMARKS. 

school, 



" that he woul. 

I," Ih'Jught th 



Scotland. We have the best authority for 

i'l.-ccitiiii: the vear IT!) 7. the execution.- in that 
division of the island did not amount to six 
annually ; and one quarter-sessions for Ihe 
(own of Manchester only, lias sent, according 
lo Mr Hume, more felons to the plantations, 
than all the judges of Scotland usually do 



tnpl i 



t iniiilt a 
cul itii.n of the man 
i Manchester and i 



di!V, 



injority of those who sutler the punishmer 

md are, it is believed, is tl 
f ignorance. 

There is now a legal provision for parochii 
•bools, or rather tor a school in each of tli 



3rt of the teacher, 
icy of the scholars. The teac! 
n a candidate for holy orders, 
long course „f study and probi 

be spared from his prdfessi 

the respectable character of a : 



submit to much privation, that they may obtain, 
for one of their sons at least, the precarious 
advantage of a learned education. The difficulty 



s place to inquir. 
empt any precis. 



subjects of this 
whole favourabb 



motion. A human being, in pro- 
measure was entirely frustrated, 
iritj of character between the 



ivi.ua. 



i! Of t 



iubt increased by physic: 



North America. They are, however, of recen 
origin there, excepting in .New England, when 
they were established'in the last century, pro 
bably about the same time as in Scotland, ani 
bv the t ame religious sect. In the Protestan 



northern parts ol 
instruction of the 



land; but the fund vY 



. _ . /i p. 50. 



ness, the peasantry of those parts of England 
are who have opportunities of instruction, tu 

The peasantry of Westmoreland, and of ths 

■ llier districts mentioned above, if their physi- 
cal and moral qualities be taken together, arc, 
in the opinion of the Editor, superior tvl Uie 
peasantry of any part of the islpjid. 



I i.innutY. 



portion as he U informed, lino his wish' 

I tfviug those 
Ha may be considered M taking with- 
iu the sphere of liii vision a Is-.- 
the globe on which «ri ir. ad. an.. 
vantages m n greater dial 

• 
llii-. faculty, often acuuire, in ihe uiind of the 
youthful adventurer, an attraction from their 
very distance and uncertainty. If, therefore, a 
great degree of instruction be given to the 
peasantry of a country comparatively poor, in 
Die neighbourhood of oth.r cm.-, 
natural and acquired advantnge, ; and if the 
barriers be removed that kept i hem separate; 
emigration from the former to the latter will 

rhichlientdilluws itself 



h i.y wind 



natural course. By thi 
, the barrier was broken 
the two British nations, 



turous natives ofthe north over the fertile ] 
of lliiirlaml, and more especially, over the colo- 
nics which she hud settled iii the Kast and in 
the West, 'flie stream of population coin' 
to flow from the north to the south ; foi 
causes that originally impelled it, continue to 
operate ; and the richer country is constantly 
invigorated by the accession of tin informed 
and hardy race of nun, educated in poverty, 
and prepared for hardship and dinger, pale.,.! 
of labour, nnd prodigal of life. • 



I slip; i, t 






s are doubtful, 

where retarded 
nature, bj tin 



t of a people facilitate: 
I, by producing a rela 
as of subsistence. Tin 



corn, are pi rbap applii able « lib li 

lo 111.- tree . xp.nl id ; 

III.- Mill, III,- -t. it r tin- ulllliv.il 

i. I I irlh.r ilh.sirat. d .11 a l.il- lull) 

pin! pin -ii E -.li,- m Poputah .. i 

Seu'l.iinl has increased in Ihe number of its 

■■:-.-■.■- 
iii lb- nil .1. 'II,,. ,- x . 

tent of iln- emigration ■ 

diluted will, 

number of the Ivy - 

-.1 tint may be establish,, I pr. Ity 

exactly by an examination ■■! the invaluable 

I: wo suppose 

.1 I, Uinber Of male mid 

I 



with tnem the temper as well as i, 
that celebrsted herniareb. The y 

1 estsbli.b- 
I v. us endeared lo them, 
also, by the struggle it bad to maintain with 
the Catholic and the Protectant episcopal 
churches, ovrr both of which, after a hundred 
years of fierce, and sometimes bloody conten- 
tion, it finally triumphed, receiving the coun- 
tenance of government, and the sanction of law. 
During this lone period of contention and of 
uili rui.', th. I. u pr ,.l the people became more 
;,nate and bigotted ; and the nation 
received that deep tinge of fanaticism, which 
coloured their public transactions as well a* 
their private virtues, and of wk 

the public schools were established, the instruc- 

lioii communicated in them part. • - 

li.'ious churuc!>.r of tin people. The Csleebi-m 

I ana Ditriaa »«• '• 
school-book, and was put into the hands of ihe 



of Solomon, and the 



doctrines of the Christian faith. 

•inbly's Catech.-m. Ike I 

' New and Old Testament, 
• n ; and the scholar 
kaowMga of ■"'* 



according t 












tile interpretation 
.1 railh. '1 
instruction of infancy m the schot 
are blended ill- 

and hence the f.rst and most consume c*rui« 
among the peasantry of Scotland, 

national creed, is con. 

in form, of 

of which would be alloge- 

. if we did not recollect that the 

h .iiur.li »er.- formed 

direct opp. . lo those of 

Ihe church of Koine. 

■i. cities of conduct, and singulsii- 

.1 c. iiturv. 
i..r.t..,i a subject lor ill. comic mus 

- me of the peculiarities 
among ihe more rigid disciple, of 

scope lo iheridicltl Ilurus, whose 

equal to Butler , ; and v.. 






1 as the males, thi, mode e-f . aJculalllUF; 

would probably make the number ot . 



The 



ic alive 



BURNS.— PREFATORY REMARKS. 



pre 



. Uufort 



the strength of his |eni 

rendered unit for the light.* 

The information and the religii 

of the peasantry of So 
of conduct, and habits of thoujht a 
—These good qualities are not cot 
the establishment of poor laws; 
they reflect credit on the benevol 
from the wisdom of the Englisl 

distress of the poor, who by as 



ich of educatioi 

ty or'fortTyearl 



ed. The Scol 
ody is however radically I 
e or harmony, it for™ as, 



;rohciency. 
That dancing should 



which the a 
which this 
The winter 



affected, ai 
. ; »1] at 111 t 



item of iustrucl 
reduction of a 1 
poverty ; the e 



should disease suspend, or 
labours. Happilv, in Scot- 
ilature which established a 
in for the poor, resisted the 



** 


uLjcJ- 


if t 
,,t ; 


01] 


c "\\ 


ten t 


r'm 


Scol 








from 


i\- c 






•• profane r 






lated 


by an 


i:.-t.- 


m.r 



ivas establisl 


ed in 




lished 
itch of 


ecTeTby » 
or ; and the 


■'",'-■ 


part of the 


*&. 



* Holy Willie's Prayer— Rob the Ryraer's 
Welcome to his Bastard Child— Epistle to J. 
l.o.ydie-ihe Holy Tulzie, Ssc 



Alter the labours of the day are oyer, young 

lin sounds a Scottish air, fatigue seems to 
vanish, the toil-bent rustic becomes erect, his 

seems to thr... r. artery 

to vibrate with life. These rustic performer's 
are indeed less to be admired for grace, than 
for agilitT and animation, and their accurate 
observance of time. Their modes of dancing, 
as well as their tunes, are common to every 
rank in Scotland, and are now generally 

into England, and have established themselves 
even in the circle of Royalty. In another 
generation they will be naturalized in every 
part of the island. 



- - - 

rieties, is so t :, - « hich in its 

livelier strains, awakes those vivid emotions 
that bnd m dancing their natural solace and 
relief. 

This triumph of the music of Scotland over 

and obstinate struggles. The numerous sec- 
original doctrines and discipline, universally 



i M.!, inn III.- practice of dancing, 

elderly and serious pan i 

penuasion, tolerate rather than approve in 

mnaic, where enroll dispelled, foil is forgot- 

II,. Reformation, which pn.n-d fatal lo the 



DIAMOND CABOfEl . 

id the 



, but could n 



not only existed previous lo that er 
taken a firm hold of the nation ; tl 



" l ,r "" 



The imprcasioi 
lias made on tbi 






ide on tlie people, is deepened by its 
with Ihe national songs, of which 



the public. 

chi,t!. ire; 



perhaps impossible to give on 
lb, in in the order of their d 
such a record of taste and ma 






not be u-hiiincil. After the I. lours of the day 

■re over, he set. out for the huLii.n.n .1 lu's 

11,1 li. ,, 1 .. rl, ij. . 

««... II . under Ihe 

door or wiu- 

, lied again and again, 

l"l' " 'I" > ['"■' "• 1 i>r - "ill .,l,.j Ihe 

1 
. tl ids of m: hi. bill ' 



Imitated or improved. In the art 
which they eel. brate he was perfectly skilled ; 
he knew and had practised all fa : 
I I thii --,rt ia indeed universal, e»en 



peasantry of a country who are supposed to be 

mlnonly instructed; who find in 

their rural songs expressions for their youthful 

are continually fanned by the breathings of a 

direct influence of physical causes 00 the at. 
tacbmenl between the sexes is comparatively 
small, but it is modified by moral causes beyond 

music and poetry are the chief. Among the 
snows of Lapland, and under the burning sun 
of Angola, the savage is seen hastening to his 

weariness of bis journey with poetry and song. • 

In appreciating the happiness and virtue of 

■ community, there is perhaps no single cri- 

lerion on which so much dependence may be 



mounts on the 



es the condition 



in society, our imperfect 
scale of moral excellence, auu 
of this single ailection, a stream of felicity de- 
scends, which branches into a thousand rivulets 
that enrich and adorn the field of life. >\ here 
Ihe attachment between the s. x.-s sinks into nu 
appetite, the heritage of ODJ 
ntively poor, end man approach, s th 
of the brutes thai pert'sA. "If we could with 
safety indulge the pleasing supposition that 
bin-ill lived and tlj.it U-sian sling.t" Scot. 
land, judgiug In 111 this criterion, might be 
considered as ranking high in happiness and 
virtue in v.i. : r, dale her 

situation by the same criterion in our own times, 
Would be a delicate and difficult undertaking. 
1 1 ing the probable inl u 

uoual music, and aa> 
Illiilllllig h, vv far the .fleets lo be expected from 

rtad tv tacts, the inquirer won' ' 









Ij of her ci 



of .•!, 



silently uiul slowly, are often poweifully con- 
trolled. In Ihe point of rUm in which we are 

ihe subject, the ecclesiastical esta- 
blishments of Scotland may be aup| > 
linrly favourable to purity of conduct. Ihe 

< 
clergy, which preceded, and in MB 

Id formation! Ind 1. . 



1 






with the chu-nu of poetry and music 

■ 

I Gibbon. 



BURNS PREFATORY REMARKS. 

the parties themselves fix the date of their 



e.l with austerity of mam 
Calvin assumed a greater 

ment of illicit connexion b 
throughout all Europe, a 
clergy assumed to themsel 
of Scotland, which at the 



the disciples 






iage, the condition of the feni 
itance, that the clergy and eld 



from the pulpit, for three Sabbaths su 
in the face of the congregation to 
belongs, and thus have her weakness 



lighter the puuishmi 
this dreadful law, w 
Calvin and of KnoJ 



While the punishment of incontinence pre- 
scribed b\ the institutions of Scotland, is severe, 

it, afforded them bv the law respecting mar- 
riage, the validitv uf which n aiires neither the 
ceremonies of the" church, nor any other c rc- 

by the parties before witnesses, or in any other 
way that gives legal evidence of such an ac- 
knowledgment having taken place. And as 



* In the punishment of this on 
Church employed formerly the arm ol 
power. During the reign of James 
(James the First of Englaud), criir 



the subject of a 
p. 332.) whk 
disuse. When 



. {See Hunt 
oUand, Vol 



monarchy in both divisions of the island, forr 

with death in the second instance (See Blac 
stone, b. iv. chap. 4. Xo. II.). Happily til 



of Charles II. to whc 



Jted by the Scottish Parlia- 
ly that for th( 



ment, particularly that for the establishment ol 
parish schools, the statute punishing fornica- 



if Scotland legitima 
ore wedlock, on thi 
heir parents, rende 
narriage itself of H 



i ,- but the law 
Idren born be- 



Thus, though the institutions of Scotland are 
in many particulars favourable to a conduct 
among the peasantry founded ou foresight and 
reflection, on the subject of marriage the reverse 

be naturally supposed, are often improvident 
Dues, in whatever rank of society they occur. 

ed by their parents, find a certain degree of 



sES 



: difficult attainment in tl 
e, with other circumstaiu 



,-ir industry is i 

^Island "'" Tni 
ached Scotland 



ision of 



ry and the useful 
er than England; and 
has been rapid th?re. the 
produced are as yet far inferior, both iu 
and in appearance. The Scottish far- 

nfons of those of Englaud— neither vest 

ne return. Their clothing, their food, and 



Scotland from a very remote period. Thus a 

marry, enj.e.s all the : 

In the Parliament of Merton, in the reign of 
Henry III. the English clergy made a vigorous 

England, ai 






a. ad,- I 



o often 



appealed to ; Quod nolunt leges Anglice miliar _ 
q'>ts hue u*que usitatce sunt approbates. With 
regard to what constitutes a marria-e, the law 
of Scotland, as explained above, differs from 
the Roman law, winch required the ccrenionj 
to be performed in facie t . 






• 

Loth ore improving. lmhi-tM sj 
arts came later into {Scotland il. i 
land, because ihc security of pi 

■ l iiilernal agitation and 

warfare similar to those which occurred to the 

II r:i nation, the people of Scotland 



ur. Occupied in the maiutenance 
of ill. ir ind ■ 
■ 

and. at certain periods, 
of their papulation. And when the 
he crowns produced a security from 
wars with England for the century 



succeeding, the 



of the 






nre distinctly fell," ai..l 
Property is secure ; manufactures 
- increasing, and agriculture 



in. pr 






. 



England ; Lut tli 



ic landholders, who have seci 
autages resulting from them 
contribute towards them with a literal hand 
Hence property, as well as population, is ac 
cumulating rapidly on llie Scottish soil ; am 
the nation, enjoying a great part of the bless 

tiered, if couhdence could be placed in huni.ii 

. to be as yet only in an • 

e-s. ^ el lli.rV are . 

IV. the caltivation of the soil ar 
he extent and the str. I 
' ■ the improvement of the people, th 

practice, ■*";->■ ;...-i...i.- In ,,. 

p culiarlj" 
ntra exposes them to this pi 

. is perhaps 

tbe sour. . ! counterac 

l_, Its consequences tbe effects ol I 



y evil, physical nud n 



Instry. and fi 

- ■ -illly who ttai 

..•res* of Scotsmen in ollii 

untries, must bare known many striking ii 



standard of ihe 
-Though then 



' 



I 



i i das 

be men of letters of tbe last gene- 
ra. Burn-, who nerer left ll 
penetrated farther into England than Car- 
' on the one hand, or Newcastle on the 
•i dialect than 
lie. who lived for many jean 

and France ; or perhaps 
10 wrote the Ens- 
guage in a style of such purity ; and if be had 
been in other respects fitted to take a lead in the 
llritisli House t.f Commons, Ins pronunciation 
would neither hare fettered his elooueuce, uor 
deprived it of its due effect. 

inienlar in the character of the 
Scottish peasantry, is one which it is hoped 
will not be lost— the streneth of lb- 
attachments. The privations to which many 
parents submit fur the good of their children, 
and particularly to obtiin for them i 
which they consider as the chief good, has 
already been noticed. If their children lite and 
have their certain reward, not 
merely as witnessing, but as sharing of their 

earnings of the children m»y 
generally be considered as at the disposal of 
their parents ; perhaps in no counlr . 
a portion of the wages of labour applied to the 
support and comfort of those whose days of 
la!, ur are past. A similar strength of attach- 
' brousih all llie domestic relalions. 
t'ur poet i . .able cha- 

Mri'igh tinctured with another strikin* feature 
w Inch belongs to them,— a partial ' 
native country, of which many proofs may he 
found in his writings. Thi-, it must le cn- 
and general sentiment 
among the natlTSS ol So tl .ml, c, 
,-,. r In iis character, according to the charaei.-r 






me app ..i ing ■ 



c 



ihe land of their birth is, 
and among 

. 
.11 th* 



l dull on spiiil. distill,-.! 

r.mtiriililir. this ,ui 

I 



ii.ltisn.ii. _ .In ikon ft 






mntries less richly endows 
liased by patient toil, the afl'ec 



BUHNS PBEFATOttY RElViARKS. fl 

11 as every other gene- countries are often peculiaily calculated I 



of the mind. 



ength, inferior nations 
wi-hbXrs^and wlM.r' 



.s for the supply of c 
ood-will springs from 



.1 ih, Mist 



and extend from the men with whom we live 
to the soil in which we tread. It will perhap 
be found, indeed, that our affections cannot b 
original ly called forth, but by objects capable 

Ihey are strengthened by exercise— they are ex 

more especially on those inanimate parts o 
:reatioo, which form the theatre on which W( 

ltid hrst tasted the sweets of sympathy anc 
•egard. If this reasoning be just, the love 01 
Jur country, although modified, and even ex- 
tinguished in iudhiduals by the chances anc 
lhanges of life, may be presumed, in our gen- 
ii proportion^ their social? and more especi- 



than in large ones, for the same ri 



m" are more frequently excited. In mountain- 
ous countries it is generally found more active 
than in plains, because there the ni 
life often require a closer union of the inhabi- 

. 
over the whole, are usually divided into small 



leys. 



is well calculated to call forth 

g impression on the memory, 
euiarked, that mountainous 



he operation of the vario 

pecnliar manners" of ite 
martial achievements of t 
wdied in national songs, t 
al music, liv this com 
: attach men to the laud 
tiplied and strengthened ; 

c[i"o,,\,' r"-;; 



hope die away. 

If this reasoning be just, it win explain to us 
why, among the names of Scotland, even of 

culli-.auJ minds, « -o generally lind a partial 
attachment to the land of their birth, and why 



e* ec^liar S*er* 



avidiously on those faults and failings which 
ghtly over his vet warm ashes, and respect 



LIFE 



ROBERT BURNS. 



1 think a faithful 



repaired to Edinburgh, and there published, I; 
subscription, an improved and en! >. 

farm in Dunn',! — hire ; and bavin; married . 

agriculture. He was again, however, unsuc- 
cessful ; and, abandoning his farm, he remover 
into the town of Dumfries, where he tilled ar 
inferior office ill the excise, and where he ter- 
minated his life in Jul}, 1T96, in his thirty- 
eighth year. 

The strength and originality of his geniu: 

tinguished in the republic of letter's, and, ainong 
others, that of Dr Moore, well known for his 
Views of Society and Manners on the CoiUinem 
of Europe, for Ills Ztluco, 



affair of icimlom, I sc 






e that character whir 
, . _,ans of escutcheons c 
AVhen at Edinburg 



works. To this gentlen 



it addre : 



writing. in a eompu.-ition never intended to 
see the light, elegance or perfect correctness of 
composition will not be expected. These, how- 
ever, will be compensated by the opportunity of 

life, unfold the peculiarities of his character 
with all the careless vigour and open sincerity 
of his mind. 

" Sir, ilauchline, 2d August, 17S7 

•■ For some months past I have been ram- 
bling over the country ; but I am now conlined 
with some lingering complaints, originating, 
as I take it, in the stomach. To divert my 



quaintedin the Herald's Office; and, looking 
through that granary of honours, I there found 



Gules, purpure, argent, *cc. quite disowned me. 
" Mv father »» of the nolth of Scotland, 
the son of a farmer, and was thrown by early 
misfortunes on the world at larsre ; where, 
after many years' wanderings and sojourning,, 
he picked up a pretty large quantity of obser- 
vation and experience, to which I am indebted 





bborn, 11 




y integrity, a 




ng, 




governabl 
















equeut'ly I wa 




r y 


















ay father was a 








rthy gent 




of small estate 




eh- 




irhood of 


A;r. 


Had he con 






,i. 


tittle 1 un l 




ve marched off 
gs about a far 


ai-house™ 


tat 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY 



eye till Ihey a 









. ithi r vectored or 
lii» estate. At those yean I ' 
n favourite with any body. 1 
noted for a retentive memory, 
■omedling in my disposition, 
n.tic idiot piety. I say idiot piety, because I 
was then but* a child. Though it cost the 
schoolmaster some ll.r I 

1st; and by the 
was ten or eleven years of age, I was a t 
substantives, verbs, and participles, 
infant and boyish days, too, I owed much to an 
old woman who resided in the family, remarka- 
ble for her ignorance, credulity, . 
lion. She had, I sup,.. 

in the country of talcs and songs concerning 
devils, pli . .Miches, war- 

locks, spuukies, kelpies, elf-caudles, dead- 
lights, wraiths, apparitions, canlraips, giants, 
eli. -hunted tower-, drains, and other trum- 

pery. ■|iu. cultivated the ■— 



poetry ; hut 
rambles, I 



keep a sharp look-out 
suspicious places ; and though nobody cr- 
be more sceptical than 1 am in such mallei 
jet it often takes an ett'ort of | 
shake oft' these idle terrors. The eat'' 
composition I 

was The 1 il ' 

>, How arc Htjj 
Wr»», O Lord '. 1 particularly reui-inber one 
i which was music t i 

" For though on dreadful whirls we hung 



first books I el 

.•w read since, 'were,' 7'/i. I.'i ' of Hannibal, 
and 77ie BUtory oi Sir William Wallacr. 
Hannibal gnve my Voiiiil' ideas such a turn, 
that I used to strut in raptures up and down 
alter the recruiting drum mid bag-pipe, and 
wish tin self till enouirhto be u soldier; while 
the story of Wallace poured a Scottish pre- 
judice into ,„_> vein,, which will boil along 
there till the (food-gates of life shut in eternal 

leal divinity about thll tim- w ., 
pultinc in,- nr , hall mad ; mid I, ambitious 

no., us, at funerals, ,Vc. 

much h. it .iii.l in. I. r. u, m, ih il I . 

und cry of heresy against me, which has not 

ceased to il. 



like our BSl infinitude, 

ih oth.r yoonitn who possessed 
superior a I. 

la the r.l(P»r,al ..I purl, in which 



I to dru,- ■ 

> <" 



It takes a few dashes 
into the wurld, to give the young gnat man 
r.ur.c.i..' c -r- _• .ri l r 
I, stupid devils, lb* 



■'■-■ '■ — ■ 



and benefactors, as they occasionally went off 

. s, was often to me a 

sore affliction ; but 1 was toon called to more 

srious evils. My father'* generous master 

and, to clench the misfortune, we fell into the 
hands of a factor, who sat for the picture 1 
have drawn of one in my Talc oi T 
.My father was advanced in life when he mar- 
ried ; I was the eldest of seven children ; and 
he, worn out by early hardships, was unlit fur 
labour. My father's spirit was soon irritated, 
but not easily broken. There was a freedom in 

■ ry poorly ; 1 was ■ . 

ploughman for my age"; and the nelt eldest to 
me was a bruth-r (Gilbert) who could drive 
the plough vary well, and help ■ 
the corn. A rhajM have 

-ceues with some - 
bat so did not I ; roT indignation -: 

threatening letters which used to set us all in 

•• This kind of life— the cheerless gloom of a 






il of a galley 



I . I lie sill of 

coupling a n.an and woman together at part- 



tcarcitv of English denies mo il. 
doing licr justice in that MUgaagt . 



unwittingly to herself, initiated ti 

il. which, in spite of acid di»- 
appoinlmi at, . and book- 

worm philosophy, I hold to be the first of 

liiimun j.._vs, ,,„, .1. r.-i bleating h 

you medical people talk much of ii.l 
breathing ll. I 

: l.l 

did not know mi-.ll' win I liki.l SO much to 
b.ilcr behind with her, when returning in lilt 
D . ur h-.ls.urs j wli, l! 

.1.11 like an 

l out the 

■ 

ad it was I. 

i . i by me 



BURNS. -LIFE. 



by a small country laird's son, on one of his 
and 1 saw no reason why I might not rhyme 
smear sheep, and cast peats, his father living 



first poetical production of our Bard, and it is 
therefore extracted from a kind of common- 
place book, which he seems to have begun in 

"Observations, Hints, Songs, Scraps of 
Poetry, tyc. by Robert Bumess, a man who 
had little art in making money, and still less in 

sense, a great deal of honesty, and unbounded 

tioual. As he was but little indebted to a 
scholastic education, and bred at a plough-tail, 
his performances must be strongly tinctured 
■with his unpolished rustic v. a;, of life; but as, I 
believe, they are really his own, it may be some 

feels, under the pressure of love, ambition, 
anxiety, grief, with the like cares and passions, 
which, however diversified by the modes and 
manners of life, operate pretty much alike, I 
believe, in all the species. " 

«' Pleasing, when youth is long expired, to 

Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face, 
Such the soft image of our youthful mind. ' ' 

This MS. book, to -which our poet prefixed 
this account of himself, and of his intention in 

poems, some as they were printed, and others 
in their embryo state. The song alluded to is 
as follows. 

Tune,-" I am a man unmarried. " 

O, once I loved a bonnie lass, 



A bonnie lass, I will confess, 
But without some better qualities 



vliicii at times have been niv oulv, and till 
vithm the last twelve months have been my 
lighest enjoyment. My father strutrgled on till 
le reached the freedom in his lease, when he 



his lease : otherwise the a 
mpraclicable. For four 
fortably here; but a di 
between him and his la 


year. 


:ule. !i 
we live 

hil-!i:i 


vortex of litigation, my f 
rom the horrors of a ja 


"by^coniu 


stepped in, ant 




pro 





iiptiOU, 

.lid where Ike 

<■• It is during the time that we lived on this 

■as, at the beginning of this period, perhaps 
le most ungainly, , " 



uequai. 






I had 



with Pope's Works, some plays of Shakspeare t 
"• "and Dickson en A.-ria ;ir:Yc, Ike Pantheon, 

e's Essay on the Human Understanding, 

-.house's History of the Bl 

: sh Gardener's Directory, Bayle's Uc- 

, Allan Ramsay's Works, Taylor's Scr/p- 

>f English Sows, and Hemy's Meditate,-, 






song by s, 



,m. I 
n aflec- 



And then there's something in her gait 
Gars ony dress look weel. 



gaudy dress and g< 



It must be confessed that these lines give no 
indication of the future genius of Boras ; I lit 
he himself seems to have been fond of them, 
probably uota the recollections they excited. 






cause of the dissipation which mark-d my 
ccediog jean. I say dissipation, comparati 
wiih the strictness, and sobriety, and regularity 
of Presbyterian country life ; for thou-h the 
Will o' Wi.p rancor* of thoughtless) " 

years afterwards within the lino of innoc 
aim. I had felt early tome stirrings of i 



petual labour. The only two openings by whicl 
1 could enter the temple of Fortune, was thi 
pate of niggardly economy, or the path of little 
chicaning bargain-making. The first is sc 
contracted an aperture, I never could squeeze 
myself into it ;— the last I always hated— there 
was contamination in the yen entrance 1 Thus 
abandoned of aim or view in life, with a strong 
appetite for sociability, as well from native 
hilarity, as from a pride of observation and 



de me fly solitude; add 

».ial life." my reputr' : ~ ' 



for 

talent, and a strength of thought, tometbini; 
lik* the rudiments of good sense; and it will 
rpruisg that I was gcuerally a wel- 
come guest where 1 visited, or any great wonder 

other impulses of my heart, was tin penchant a 
r.:doralAc moilie du genre hum,,!:,. My heart 
was completely tinder, and was eternally lighted 

other worfare in this world my fortune was 
various, sometimes I was received with favour, 
and sometimes I was mortified with a repulse. 
At the pbmgb, scythe, or reap hook, I feared 



d as In. 



d farther for my 



much pleasure in being in the secret of half the 
lose- of Hie parish of Tarbollon. as e>er did 

curl, of I 

my hand seems to know instinctively the well- 

wOrn pub of my inioginntion, th- FaToarita 

ml song; and Is with difficulty 

restrained from giving you a couple of psra- 

mj compeers, 



or avarice. 

i - I 




ma 

ssipatiou were till this time new 
o me; but I was no enemy to social life, 
iere, though 1 leamt to fill my flax, and to 
nix without fear in a drunken so/j 
vent on wilb a high hand with my geometry, 

rig jiltttc who lived next door to the school. 



; r 


-nt from the sphere of my studies. 
ver, struggled on with my sines an 
, for a few days more ; but stepping 

de, thsre I met my angel, 


1. 




Herself a fain 


ne gathering Bowers, 
r BowV." 




E 


It was in Tain t 
at school. Th 

othiug but crai 


a think of doing any 
e the faculties of my 


id. 1 

list 



cent girl bad kept me guiltless. 
1 returned home very considerably improv- 
ed. My reading was enlarged with the very 
' uportaut addition of Thomson's and Sucti- 
oned Works ; I bad seen human nature in a 
;w pbasis: and I engaged several of mj 
bool-fellows to keep up a literary correspon. 
mce with me. This improved me in eompos-- 

the wits of Queen Anne's reigo, and I pored 
over them most devoutly ; 1 kept copies of any 
- r — | own letters that pleased me ; and a com- 

of mi correspondents flattered mt vanitv. 

ried this whim so far, that though 1 has! 

not three farthings worth of business in the 

vet alaaoal every post brought me as 

liters as if I bad been a broad plodding 

son of dar-book and ledger. 

Mi Ufa flowed on much in the same c.-urse 

rtos la bagatelle, were my sole principles of ac- 
tion. The addition of two more authors to my 
library gave me great pleasure ; Slrrr.e and 
.WAVtiste— I'ni/ram Shandy and 1 

1 " ' rling walk for my uimJ ; but it was 



and mo,t delicious ports of their 



only indulged ii 

irahndi 

.vd the work ■ 
spell, soothed all inl 



,r\ loncTf the mind." 
a. it hortV i 
ince lighted up, rsged Ii 



scvoml, and third. 



BURNS LIFE. 



e forei 



•• My twenty-third year was tome an impor- 
tant era. Parti? through whim, and partly that 
I wished to set'about doing something in life, I 
joined a flax-dresser in a neighbouring town 
(Irvine) to learn his trade, 'this was an un- 
lucky affair. My ; and, to finish 



" I was obliged to give up this scheme : the 



id pledged her soul 



my mind a turn, was a friendship 1 fonnec 
a young fellow, a very noble character 
hapless son of misfortune. He was th 



;a; where after a variety of 2ood and ill for- 
me, a little before I was' acquainted with bin, 

er, on the wild coast of Counaught, s'ripped af 
.ery thing. I cannot quit this" poor fellow 's 
ory, without addin;, that he is at this time 
asierof a large West Iodiauian belonging to 



he taught it to flow in proper channels. His 
knowledge of the world was vastly superior to 



the only u 

fool than mvself, whera woman was th( 

sidiog star ; but he spoke of illicit love wi 

with* horror. Here his friendship 

6 WS i the Pc 






Wi 



er I resumed the plough, I wrote the Poet's 
Icome.* My reading only increased, while 



escfPcni 



one of Ferdinand Count JPa 

some idea of novels. Rhyme, except some 

religious pieces that are in print, I bad given 

up; but matins with Fr-mon's Scottish 
P«-ms, I strung anew my wildly-sounding lyre 
with euiulaticg\igour. IVuen my father died. 



* Rob the B 



his all went among the hell-hounds that growl 
in the kennel of justice ; but we made a shift tc 
• the family a 



s ; and in short, iu spite of Me devil, and the 
■Id, and thefesh, 1 believe I should have 

ately buying bad seed, the second, from a 



f At the time that our poet took the resoh 

i the purpose (expressed ir 



first page) of n 

These farming memo 

enough; many of them 



ere and there, with the utmost irregularity, 
istaut from each other as to time and place. 

EXTEMPORE. April, 1782. 

O why the deuce should I repine, 

And be an ill foreboder ? 
I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine— 



I gat some gear with meikle care, 

I held it weel thegither ; 
But now it's gane, and something mair, 

I'll go and bs a sodger. 



FRAGMENT. Tune—' Donald Blue ' 

O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles, 

Such 'witchiue books are baited h:,..k/ 
For rakish rooks like Rob HossgieL 

Sing tal, lal, lay, cjc. 



And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiei. 

Beware a tongue that's smoothlv hung ; 

A heart that warmly seek, to feel ; 
That feeling heart but acts a part, 

'Ti» rakish art in Rob HoSbgieL 



DIAMOND CABINET LIHli.utY. 

BadoaaKtr.* I gave op mj part of the firm 
tc. in) brother ; In truth it was onlj nominally 



poetic offspring that saw lli.- licht, mi a bur. 


mine ; and made what little preparation was in 


• mnlli^"- 


my power for Jamaica. Bui, before lesiin* 


my native country for ever, I resolved to publuh 


aoiur in my Holy fair. I bad a uol.on myself. 


my poema. I weighed nay production! aa 


tbal (be piece bad some merit ; but to prevent 


impartially aa waa in my power: I thought 


waa very fond of such things, and told him thlt 




that I .hould be called • clever fellow, even 


I could not guess who ». lbs author of it, but 
that I thought it pretty clever. With a certain 


though it should never reach my eara — a poor 


negro. driver, — or perbapa a victim to that 


description of the clergy, as well as laity, it met 


inhospitable clime, and gone to the world of 


wilb a roar of applauie. Holy WiUie't Prayer 






as I then was, I bad pretty nearly aa high an 








moment, when the public bai decided in their 


baply any of it might be pointed against profane 




led me on another lie, wiihin point blank shot 




gious point of view, of which we aee thousand* 


of their heaviest metal. 'Ibis is the unfortunate 


daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance of 


■tor] ibal give rise to my printed poem. The 
iMmcnt. This waa a most melancholy affair. 


themselves. To know myself, had been all 


along my constant study. I weighed myself 






very nearly given me one or two of the principal 


ed every means of information, to see how much 



For he's far aboon Dunkel' the night, 
Maun white the stick and a' that. 



Ah ! Chloris I Sir Peter Halket of Pilferran. 
the author.— Note, he married her— the heire.-s 
of Pitferran, 

Colonel G.orge Crawford, the author of Down 
the Burn, Davy. 

Pinkey home, by J. Mitchell. 

Mi/ apron Dsiry '. and Amynla, by Sir G. 



Willie 



I Wag, , 



near Pai,1ey. 



M/i and a- Ma (and al»»,t it. It. I 
The, author of The liuih uW: . 
a l>r Stewart. 

Po/ioart on the Green, composed by CtpUll 

John Druiiliuuiiil M'tiregnr, ..I llochaldie. 

Vein.— To in. pill., if Mr Coekluiru was tb. 
author of I ha V nrrn (Ac tmiline, fte. 



idied assiduously nature's design in t 
aracler were intended. I was pretty a 



got subscriptions for about three hundred and 
tit"' v- My vanity was highly gratified by the 

sides 1 pocketed, all expenses deducted, nearly 
twenty pound-. This sum cam* very season- 
ably, as 1 was thinking of Indenting myself, 
for want of money to procure my p 
soon aa I was omster of nine guineas, the price 
of wafting me to the torrid rone, I look a steer. 
age passage in the first ship that was to sail 
from the Clyde; for 



" I bad been for some days skulking from 

as some ill-adiised people had uncoupled the 

Bt of the law at my heels. I had 

taken the last farewell of my few friends ; my 

chest was on the road to Greenock ; I bad cotn- 

Calcdonia, The gioomu *ieht is gotArrliig (art, 
when a lelter from Or Blacklock.* to a Hand of 
mine, overthrew all my schemes, by opening 
■lie ainbiii.m. The 



law prospects 
toetot belonge 

ippl.iuse I had 



t dared to 



th.it away I posted for that city, without a 
single aoncaint inc.-, or a .ni^'ie iMIer of intro. 
duel The baneful star that had so long shed 

Providence placed me under the patronage of 
one of the noblest uf D 



i Ibis will be found hen 



BURNS. 

csirn. Oxiblis mot. Grand Dieu, si jamais je 

" I need relate no farther. At Edinburgh I 
was in a new world; I mingled among many 
classes of men, but all of them new to me, and 
1 was all attention to catch the characters and 
Vie manners living as they rise. Whether I 
have profited, time will show. 



"My most respectful compliments to Miss 
AW ilcr very elegant and friendly letter I 
cannot answer at present, as my presence is 



At the period of our poet's death, his orc- 
his brother, he complied with her request in a 
Utter, from which the following narrati - 
chiefly extracted. When Gilbert Burns t 



undred yards of Allowav Church, which his 
oem of Tain o' Shanter has rendered irarnor- 



a livelihood. The same necessity attend 
elder brother Robert. "I have often 
mv father, '• savs Gilbert Burns, in bis 
to\Mrs Dunlop,'" describe the anguish o 
he felt when they parted on the top of a 



and scare, 1 . 

father undertook to act as 

ed his course to Ediubur 



* There are various copies of this letter. 



id one slight alteration suggested by Gilberl 
+ This house is on the right hand side of the 



ralton parish, he sold his leasehold right in 
house, and a few acres of land adjoining, 
te corporation of shoemakers in Ayr. It is 



LIFE. 

hard when he could get work, passing thrc 
iety of difficulties. Still, however 
voured to spare something for the sup 
aged parent ; and I recollect hearing 
on his having sent a bank-note for 
purpose when money of that kind was so sc 
: - '■'incardineshire, that they scarcely k 





ng desirous of settlir 


gin life, hetookuper- 




ual lease of seven 






mpbell, physician ir 








■ gardener 




d having built a hou 






nds, married in D 


i; 37, 'Agues 










es. The first frui 


of th. marriage wo 


K 


bert, the subject of 






2 !uh of January, 1 






utioncd. Before William Burnes had made 




tch progress in pre 


.aring his nursery, he 




s withdrawn from 


ang b\ 11 


F 


rguson, who purchn 














'ardener and overseer 








I, 


ru. Though in the 


service of Mr Ferguson 
ise, his wife managing 


her ram 




a 


ws 1 ! m and (h , is"s*tate 


Jlelimes of three milch 
of unambitious conten 



: 

teacher being in a few months appointed mas- 



heads of fam 
his stead. Tl 
brother Gilber 



:. Murdoch, whose 
that time had no great variety in it, 
_ The Life of Hannibal, which was the 
: first book he read (the school books excepted) 
I and almost the onlv one he had an opportunity 
of reading while he was at school; for The 
i Life of Wallace, which he classes with it in one 
j of" his letters to you, he did not see for soma 

[smith who shod our horses. " 
I It appears that William Burnes approved 
■ himself greatly in the service of Mr Ferguson, 
! by his intelligence, industry, and integrity. In 



"With him we lear 


1 to r. 


My well, | and to wr 


e alii 






to profit much from 




but Robert made som 


- ; roll 


cumstance of consid 


rable 


folding of his genius 


udch 


became remarkable fo 


r thet 


that clmc'irThirwaj 


with 




nth*. 


when he could get a 


book. 



, English ■ 



[o be fort, 
irs, and at - 



consequence of (hit, with i 

nf which we have the folio 

•• The farm was upward 

-Sit V and nin. 

measure), 3 

pound, annually for the fir 

: .iher endea- 
-. il bis leasehold property, for the 
purpose of stocking thi, farm, but at that time 
was uuable, and Mr Ferguson lent him a hun- 
dred pound, f..r thai purpose, lie removed to 
lualion at Whitsuntide, 17i;o. It 
wa-, 1 think, not above two years after this, 
that Murdoch, our tutor and friend, left thi, 
part of the country ; aud there being no school 
near us, and our little services bei 
the farm, my father undertook to teach 



DIAMOND cabinet library. 

i view of pro"; 



:nings, by caudle- 
's got 



re were no hoys of our own ape, 
or Deal it, in the neighbourhood. Indeed the 
greatest part of the laud in the vicinity was at 
I bat time poj.o-.ed by shopkeepers, end people 



companion we had. He conversed famili 
on all subjects with us, as if we had been m 
end was al great pains, while we accompanied 
him in the labours of the farm, to lead the 
' i such subjects as might tend to 
increase our knowledge, or confirm us in vir- 
He borrowed Salmon's Geogra- 






circumstance that happened at this time, which, 
though trilling in itself, is fresh in in) memory, 
aud may serve to illustrate ihe early character 

iii.Tiit with us, aud to lake his Leave, when he 






to Camels, lie 



ought u, 



as a present and memorial of hi 

tragedy of Titus Andronicif. ; and, by way of 

tears. A female in the play (1 hav 

fused remembrance of il) had her hands chopt 

off, and ber tongtt — 

sultingly desired t 



My fatl 



;r observed, that if we would not 

. I Would be lliedle,, to lease the 

with u,. Robert replied, that if it was 1. 
would burn it. My father was going to 
him for this ungrateful return to his ti 
kindness; but Murdoch interfered, declaring 
thai lie liked to see so much sensibility ; and he 
left The School for Lore, a corned \ iirau,!m<d, 
1 think, from the J/reuch), in its place, "t 



» Letter of Gilbert Huns to Mrs Puulop. 
The name ol this farm il Mount Oliptuot, in 
Ayr parish. 

only nine years of age, and the relate! of lln, 
incident under ci-ht. at the tune it happened. 

sibility at their age. At a more m . 

..) the ju.lf iii, inch ebsurd i 

ere calculated rather to produi 

10 which 

I 



a hook lo 



history of the i 
while, from a book-society iu Avr, he procured 
fur us the reading of LVrAiei's fht/sico and 
Astro-Theology, and Ray's Wisdom of God m 
the Creation, to give us some idea of astronomy 
and natural history. Robert read all these 
books with an aridity and industry scarcely to 
be equalled. My father had been a subscriber 

published by Jimm M euros in Kilmarnock: 
from this Robert collected a ramp. : 
ledge of ancient history ; for no book was so 
voluminous as lo slacken his industry, or so an- 
tiquated as to damp his researches. ' . . 
of my mother, who had lived with us some 



slop inAir, lonurehan The 
or i-rodeseiai.'. sure Guide, at 
him to wrile Letter*, l.uck.Iv. m place of The 
r-Writer, he got, by mistake, a 
small collection of letters by the most eminent 

laiuiug nn easy et 

inspired him wuh i 

models by some , I 
gunge. 

•• M) brother was about thirteen or fourteen, 

when in) father, regretting that he wrote so ill, 

■ ..i. at, taring ■ summer quarter, 

to the parish school of l>.llr\ir,plc, whcli, 

iIku.-Ii between two and three miles distant. 

ipportunitj ol l 

his time u bookish acquaintance of my father's 
procured us a reading ol two Tolas 
ardson's Tamcla, which was the first novel we 

-illy part of Richard- 
roj brother ». acquainted with till towards 
i i.i, commencing author. Till 






Sinoll 



illy play st 
, bin li ... 



he intended to |m rform. 



, (.two 



'Hill be ue.er ev.i 

e trench crilic, in 






BURNS LIFE. 



English history from Mr Hamilton of Bourtree- 
hill's srardeuer. It treated of the reien of Ji 
the First, and his unfortunate son, Cha 

that I remember of it is something of Char 



1 So I'll to my Latin again. 



he The established teacher of the 1 
guage in Ayr, a circumstance of considerable 
consequence to us. The remembrance of my 
father's former friendship, and his attachment 

power for our improvement. He sent us Pope 's 
works, and some other poetry, the first th.n we 
had an opportunity of reading, excepting what 
is contained in The English Collection, and in 
; of The Edinburgh Magazine for 



drymple, the I 
him that attention to which bethought 
entitled. In Ayr he might as weil 
ken blasphemy. He found it proper 



1772; 



■cellent n 



xmt the country i 
" The summer after we had been at Dalryro- 
revise his English grammar, with his former 



education, excepting one sun 
school of Kirk Oswald, (win 



knowledge of the language, as to read and 
understand any French author in prose. This 

throifth the medium of Murdoch, procured him 
the acquaintance of several lads in Ayr, who 
■were at that time gabbling French, and the 
notice of some families, particularly that of l)r 

" Observing the facility with which he had 
the established writing-master in Ayr, l 



langua 



Iv b 



BStXJ, 



ised Robert to 

advice, he purchased The Rudiments of the 

Latin Tongue, but finding this study dry and 

frequently return-id to his Rudiments on anv 
little chagrin or disappointment, particularly 
in his love affairs -, but the Latin seldom pre- 
dominated more th; 



Obsei 






fellow -native 


fthe north of Scotland 






during Mr Pa 


erson'slife. After his 


widow, who 1 


s a very genteel woros 






thought her 


husband would have 


hare done, an 


d assiduously kept up 



the intimacy with our family, by frequently 

•* NVhen she came to know mv brother's pas- 
sion for books, she kindly offered us the use of 

Spectator, Popt T Horner, and 
several other •— '•- "— '-' — 









i the parish of Ayr, is almost the very pooresl 



.-r thirty years ago. My 

ch were increased by the 
cattle by accidents and 

we could only 



rfmisl 

hard labour and the 
lived very sparingl; 

all the members of 



difficulties, 

f several of 

To the 



e fan 
of their 



n the labours of the farm. 

threshing the crop of corn, and at fifteen 
was the principal labourer on the farm, for 

The anguish of mind we felt at our tender 
years, under these straits and difficulties, was 

old (for he'was now above fifty,) broken down 
with the long continued fatigues of his life, 
with his wife and five other children, and in 
a declining slate of circumBtancea, these refleo 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

This ni not likely to be at 



this period of 



,o ofun afflicted through hie irbolt life after- 
wards. At ihis time he was almost eoulull) 
nfllicted In the evenings with a dull headache, 
which, at a future period of his life, wan ex- 
changed for a palpitation of the heart, and a 
threatening of fainting and suffocation in bis 

" By n stipulation in my father's lease, he 
had a right to throw it up, if he (bought proper. 
nt the end of every sixth year. He attempted 



in Liverpool. He removed to this farm at 
Whitsunday, 1777, and possessed it only seven 



decision involved u.v father's all Mrs in ruin. 
He lived to know of this decision, but not to 

died on the 13th of February, 17S4. 

"The seven jears we lived in Truboltnn 
parish (extending from the seventeenth to the 
twenty-fourth of my brother's age), were not 

during tin- time the foundation was laid of cer- 



woineii, yet when he approached manhood, his 
attachment to their society became very strong, 

celebrated Sappho. I never indeed knew that 
'.•«'.-, ami ili, ,1 uii-nv •' but the agita- 
tions "if bis mind mid boilv exceeded nnv tiling 

of the kind I ever knew in real life. He had 

I.. 111. I , tlie„f,,r.., rnr.lv 

settled on persons of this description. When 
lie selected n.iy oh-, out of tile sovereignty of 
Ins good pleasure, to whom lie should pav his 

with a sufficient .lock of chiiriii . 
plentiful stores of his own imrigii ' 



a great 






II . „t . I. 

del 

l-.li/.i irare upou bin), 

■ 



red a sum of money be had no probability 

ag i«r other 
of life. He and I bad for 
i land of my father for the purpo-e of 

-can to think of (liming 
dresser, both an being suitable to ins 
d view of settling in life, and a* •ubtrr- 
to the flax raising. He accordingly 
igh( a( the business of a 

■d, as neither agreeing with his health nor 
nation. In Irvine he had contracted some 



prepared him for overleaping the bound, of 
r.gid virtue which had hitherto retrained him. 
lowards the end of (he period under review 
i m his 21th year), and soon after his father's 
death, he was furnished with the subject of his 
epistle to John Kankin. During this period 
also he became a freemason, which was bin 
firal introduction to the lifeofa boon compau on. 
Vet, notwithstanding these circumstances, and 
the praise he has bestowed on Scotch drink 

do not recollect, during (bese seien years, nor 

(when his growing celebrity occasioned his 
being often in company), to have ever s-en him 

rietj of his 

conduct need not be required than what 1 am 

we lived tu the farro of Lochia* with my father, 
he allowed my brother and me such wages for 
our labour as he gave to other labourer-, a- a 
part of wbiel', every article cf our 

counted lor. \v Ion tin father's ... 

near a crisis, Hubert n'riil I took (he farm of 

of LW per annum (the tarn ou which I lira 
a( present) from Ml Gavin Hamilton, as an 
uyfum for the family „. 
was stocked by the properly and individual 

-mines of tlo whole family, and was a joint 

concern among us. I'.v.ry member of the 

family was allowed ordinary wages for the 

allowance alol nun. ii.i.-.-v 11 pounds per an- 
num each. And daring the who',,- lime this 

family concern l.i-l. .1. which wa- . 

as well as during the preceding period at 

l.ochl.a, his 

l 
tin t .1 with the keeping ol'llie fan. 

in ilu-. 1 -.lenient in 111) brother's favour. Ills 
temperance and frugality were even thing that 









i.. ity, ..n I the 

Top. Ill Co. 

in. I, not with l 



BURNS.— LIFE, 



21 



notion with Jean Armour, afterwards Mrs 
Bums. This connexion could no longer be 
concealed, about the time we came to a final 



h her father till 'it might please 



" Mrs Burns was a great favourite of her 

was the first suggestion he received of her real 
situation. He was in the greatest distress, and 
faiated awav. The marriage did not appear to 
him to make the matter any better. A hus- 



any other prospects of a settlemen 

expressed a wish tocher, that the v 
which respected the marriage sh 
celled, and thus the marriage r< 



anguish of mind. He offered to stay at hot 
and provide for his wife and family in the b( 
manner that his daily labours could provide for 
them ; that being the only means in his power. 



you a simple narrative of the leading circuni. 

3 in my brother's early life. The re- 

ig part he spent in Edinburgh or Dum- 
friesshire, and its incidents are as well known 

im your patronage and friendship, this gave 



ven this offer "they did not 


approve of 


; f. 


mble as Miss Armours 






eat though her imprudenc 


e had been 


.•■'" 



was not effaced, till bv a regular marriajf 
were iudissolubly united. In the stale of 
which this separation produced, he wish 

assistant ov tracer, or, as I believe it is called, 
a book-keeper, on his estate. As he had not 

passage for him was not expected to sail for 
some time, Mr Hamilton advised him to publish 

a likely way of getting a little money to providt 
him more lit ra essaries for Jamaica. 

Agreeably to this advice, subscription bills were 
printed immediately, and the printing wa- 
commenced at Kilmarnock, his preparation- 
going on at the same time for his voyage. Th( 
reception, however, which his poems met wit! 
in the world, and the friends 
him, made him change his resolution of 
to Jamaica, and he was advised to go to Edin. 
burgh to publish a second edition. On hii 
return, in happier circumstances, he renewec 
his connexion with Mrs Burns, and rendered i 
permanent by a union for life. 

'•Thus, Madam, have I endeavoured to givi 



oh, I tx 






st respectful, but most unreserved 
ence, and which only termini 
st days of his life. " 



of Gilbert Burns may servo 
as a commentary on the preceding sketch of 
our poet's life by himself. It will be seen that 

irose from the distress and sorrow in 
e tad involved his future wife. The 

The reader will perceive, from the fortuning 
narrative, how much the children of William 

it does not appear that he possessed any portion 
of that vivid imagination for which the subject 
of these memoirs was distinguished. In page 

had an unaccountable antipathy to daucing- 
' ';, and that ' 



.,;,!,< „ 



lisplea 






our fall 

of bis going to a dancing-school against his 
will, of which he was incapable. I believe 
the truth was, that he, about this time, began 
to see the dangerous impetuosity of my brother 'fl 

which he would naturally think a dancing- 
more expense in cultivating than on the rest of 
the family, in the instances of sending him to 
Ait and Kirk-Oswald schools ; and he was 
-rent];, delighted with his warmth of heart, 

deed that dislike of dancing-schools which 
Robert mentions ; but so far overcame it during 

allowed all the rest of the family that were fit 
for it, to accompany him during the second 
month. Robert excelled in dancing, and was 
for some time distractedly fond of it. " 



ting lands of 



y procured 



coupled at his heels," to oblige him to find 



SS DIAMOND CABINB1 LTBBABY. 

IsyoJ nl.J dU I | relaliTi 



law, wli. r. 

and shake hand. v»ilh infamy, for what 
sincerely believe lo be 111 
or their king, arc, a» Mark Antony »n 
Spak-pcare, of Brutj, and Cassius. ktrnot 

this circumstance, becal 
threw my father en She world at large. " 

;li bis been omitted in pri 
the letter, at the desire of Gilbert Burns 
it would have been unnecessary 



ic of Club- 



liis < 



' 



■ Ol ll, 



t know," 






ity locks on Li. head 

lurnof mind, 

iotf, and as is usual anion? the Scotii.h peasantry, 

> in a good deal conversant in speculative theology. 

. Gilbert's hands a little manual of 

belief, in the form of a di.loeue 

between a father and his son. composed by him 

line fur the use of his children, in which the L-tne- 

il church, iuto something approaching to Ar- 



lield with the younj 
haps, intended toco 



re the Earl of Marischal 

.talc- in 17 1.). 

1 union;: a collection ot 



low country of Scotland, 






■were in those days li 

Ion, in the familiar |,]ira-e of me counuj, 

•'Out in the forty-five," (1745.) especially 
when they had any Bt« 

tlicin, as was the case with \\ ilXaru Burncs. 

Il mav easily I ceive.l, that our poet would 

Cheris'h the belief of his father's having been 

in the ilarins enlerprisc of Prince 

attachment. 



e adhere, 



of the house of S 



, touched 



with sympathy, his youthful and ardent mind, 
an 1 iuilueuced his original political opinions.* 



to etofl i 

tial a manner. Tin prim ipal acquaintance we 

had in Ayr. while Lor,, were lo ., 

mother's, who kepi ■ tea shop, and had made 

n little mom, in ill 

common at thai lime, lie died v. i 

were young, ami my Father was nominated one 

,.i ibe tub i . re bred shop- 



Ho r says the 



■ 



:eofcallin f 



i irj tegeth r 



dure in the CouV. 5 

a \\ illiam Burncs and his family 

ful suppei 



They, round the ingle, form a circle w ide ; 
The sire turns o'er, wiih patriarchal grace, 

'Hie Lis r's pride: 

His bonnet rer'rently is laid aside. 

His hart ballets wearing thin and bare; 
Muse -.trains that once did nraea 









And " Let as tcorthip f/«j .' ' be say s » ilh so- 

Tbey chant their artless notes in sin • 

. 

Perhaps Ihrndce '« + wild warbling measures 

Or plaintive Mur/unf worthy of the nime ; 
Or noble Elfin t beets the hea'yenly flame, 
- 
•se, lialian trills are tame: 
oo heartfelt raptur 



Compared wi 
No unison have 



ir Creator '» praise. 



1-like father reads the sacred page,* 
■ ii liuhi 
I lerna'l warfare wage 
With Amalek ■ 
Or hovy the royoi tant did groaning he. 
Beneath the' stroke of Heaven ? 

Or, Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing civ ; 

Hamilton, during the American war. 1 

,. III., r of then, are mow , 17117 1 alive. W e also 

Air, and a 

. ungir broth 

i hide older than my brother, and with whom 

is had a longer and closer tatlmtej than with 

.-. which did no;, I-. 



among the 



BURXS.-LIFE. 



r, rapl Isaiah 's wild seraphic fire ; 
:.id not on earth whereon tola; his h( 



Row he who lone in Patmos banished, 
Saw in the sun a mijhty angel stand : 
And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced 

Then kneeling down toHeaven's eternalKin?, 
The taint, the father, and the husband prays; 

Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing, 
That thus thev all shall meet in future da> 5; 

There ever bask in uncreated rays, 

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, 

Together hymning their Creator's praise, 



Then homeward all lake off their several « a : , ; 

The parent pair their secret homage pay. 
And offer up to Heaven the warm request, 

TbatAe who stills the raven's clam re- nest, 
And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, 

Would in the way his wisdom sees the b-st. 



Of a family so interesting as that which in- 
habited the cottase of William Burnes, and 
particularly of the father of the family, the 
11 perhaps ' 



Joseph Cooper Walker, Esq. of Dublin, author 
of the Historical Memoir of the Italian Tragedy, 
lately published, thus expresses himself: 

SIR, 

■' 1 was lately favoured with a letter from our 
worthy friend, the Rev. Wm. Adair, in which 

ever particulars I could recollect concerning 
Robert Burns, the Ayrshire poet. Mi business 



tie ir ■*■- ■■-*■■' 

nights on paper, that 1 

ly part of the life of thi 
" William Burnes, the father of the pc 
Un Ay, 



tie in the habit of expressing my 
perfect sketch of the 



Lreo 



a gardener. He had been se 

ten or twelve vears before I 

had teen in the sen ice of -Mr Crawford of 

Doonside. He was afterwards employed as a 

gardener and over.-eer bv Provost Ferjnso.n ot 

Doonholm, in the parish' of Alloway, which is 

uow united with that of Ayr. In this parish. 



on the road side, a Scotch mile and 1 
the town of Ayr, and half a milt 
bridge of Doon, William Burnes t< 



an inhabitant, i really believe there dwelt a 
larger portion of content than in any palace in 
Europe. The Cotter s Saturday Night will 

" In 1765, about the middle of March, Mr 
W r . Burnes came to Ayr, and sent to the 

iny good friend Mr Robison, desiring that I 

and bring my writing book with me. This 



a few yards from the argillaceous fab 
board me by turns, and to make up 

before they were put under my car 
both made a rapid progress in readir 
tolerable progress in writing. In rea 
vidmg words into syllables by rule. 



schools were the Spelling Book, the New 
nent, the Bible, Mason's Collection of 
and Verse, and Fisher's English Gram- 



ion 


facility. This 


was partly 






b> thei 


father and 








s, to make 


iL.'r 


ughly acquainted 


with 1 


e meaning 


-T-. V. 






was to be 






.he bj 


, this ma; 










if 


bought. As s 
it, I taught them 


ta'im, 


they were 


lural 


prose order; some 












words, and 








you know. 




ans of knowing tha 




pil under- 


s his 


author. These ar 




ent helps to 




ement of words in 












Jiice 


t always appeared 


to me 


possessa 



1\ 



IHV.IOVI) cvniNT.T Linn\:iY. 



g urination, and to be mor- of the | myself, Ihal 

^little c'hurch-'music. "ll 
behind bj all the ml of lbs sch . 

voice untunable. ' It was long before 'l cuul 



Ihomrhiful mind. U 
10M thee I mean to li 

which oith. in v j~ tb 

■< [a til 

id ..in. 

. louut Ol . 

n the service of Provost Ferguson. 



in generally grave, 
ert'. facTiaid'il 



two 1. ,-.,. lud 1 
.. mott likely to 






Robert had a propensity of tha 

17b'7, Mr Hurnes quitted hi* 

:pban0^ 1 isopai : n^rU'i',- : !»h:i^ 

from the school, 
the boys could not attend regularly ; and some 

porters of the school, I left it, having continue 1 

•' In the year 177a, 1 was appoint.-.l | being 
one of live candidates who were examined) to 



ll t ■ ,,i. — In. n 1I1- lai.-.ir... _- -.r >»-• 

r hand. The ruber and 

at down with Of, when we enjoyed a 

and a tin Wile I 



ill parties. Robert hid a hundred question* 



riew, 'had si 

[lllil'.wjlllV, 



e French. Ate ; 



friends, upon moral or natural 
00 was of the party as much as 

11 the house affairs would draw her 



Which erer as she could with has* 

She'd come again, and, with a greedy ear. 

Devour up their discourse, ' 

and particularly that of her husband. At all 



md particularly 



Robert was glad to 
"• Now there wa 



else. When under the necessity of being ab- 
sent while he was speaking, she seemed to 

the good-man had said. This won 
Agnes Brown, had the most thorn 

can by no means wonder that she highly es- 
teemed him ; for I myself have a!u 
dered William Burnc,' as br far the best of ibo 
human race that ever I bad the pleasure of be- 
in:; acquainted with— and many a worthy 
character I li i\o known, 1 can cheerfully join 
with Robert in the last lino of his epitaph 
(borrowed from Goldsmith), 



ich with grea 

conjugation of 



his failing 



; lean'd to virtue's 



judge from his assiduous atleutiou 
of his worthy parlne 



wins, in French ■. so thai he was hourly layi 

in a stock of worj,, ami soinctiul s little plir 
Of. Iii short, he took such pleasure in l.arn- 



her nw 
mother. 



e behaviour to him, as well as 

IWta father; 
idinj his children in the 



business ; and about the cud of the 1 

of our study of the French, wo brgL 

little of .I/, alurel of TcUuuchua, in F« 



th\-ult to 



parents do, to the performance of duties t 
which th-y themselves ar- 
care to liini fault but very seldom ; and there 
bra, when he did rebuke, he w 11 

a kind of reverential awe. A look of dis 
approbation was fell ; a reproof was severrl 
and n stripe with the tana, even on th 
nf the coal, gave heart-felt pain, produce 
. and brought I'.Tih a tloo. 



,, 1,11 •.-, 



! 



Thus wis I deprlrod "i" mj rtrj apt pupil, 
[ii mtly agreeable oorap 

1 

visitant it I 1 

I. ilili..l„l ,,, „,, 1 ,, 
Willi on. 



.. with an 



BURNS. -LIFE. 



people to keep booing and booing in the presence 
of a great man. He always treated superiors 
with a becoming respect ; bat he never gave 



you a description of all the manly qualities, 
the rational and Christian virtues of the vener- 
able William Burnes. Time would fail me. 
I shall only add, that he carefully practised 



of offence towards God' and tc 



from these few particulars, wh: 
had the principal hand in the education of our 
poet. He spoke the Eoglish language witb 
more propriety (both with respect to dicti 

with no greater advantages. This had a ve 
good effect on the boys, who began to taJ 

neighbours. I do not recollect any of their cc 
temporaries) at my little seminary, who aft* 
wards made any great figure as literary cha- 
racters, except Dr Tennant, who was chaplain 
to Colonel Fullartr - ' -- 



He! 



■"'"-" : , 



"Mr" Bui 

had overrated Mount Oliphant, and that he 
could not rear his numerous family upon it. — 
After being there some years, he removed to 
Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton, where, X 
believe, Robert wrote most of his poems. 



little n 



e re'.ati 



ner, to my worthy friend Mr Adair, wl 
" Hart Street, Bloomsbury square, 



London, Feb. 2 



brother, so this letter of Mr Murdc 
written without his having any knowledge that 

same subject. The three relati 



o ilkis 






cate each other. Though the inform; 
convey might have been presented witnin 
shorter compass, by reducing the whole into 

doubted, thai . I res ler will be far 

more gratified by a sight of these original 
documents themselves. 

Under the humble roof of his parents, it 
appears indeed that our poet had great advan- 
tages ; but his opportunities of information at 



school were more limited as to time than they 
usually are among his countrymen, in his con- ' 
dition of life ; and the acquisitions which ha 
made, and the poetical talent which he exerted. 



aider the pressure of early 


and incess 


nt toil. 


and of inferi 




scanty nu 




esufy at o 








s mind. In h 




.„;., h. 




) five feet ten i 


aches, and 








agility as 


« -U a. 


strength. I 


i the various 1 


abours of t 


lie farm 


he excelled a 


11 his competit 


rs. Gilbe 












tries all the 




everely, Robert was 


the only ma 




end of a s 




day, he was 


ever obliged to 


acknowled 


e as his 



'used to bestow on them his thoughts or his 

:ares. While the ploughshare under his 



ning the songs of his country, r 



Happily the Sunday is 
— and be-* - 



t !>..■ 






labours. On this day, therefore. Burns could 

of nature. It was his delight to wander alone 
on the banks of the Ayr, whose stream is now 
immortal, and to listen to the song of the 
blackbird at the close of the summer's day. 
But still greater was his pleasure, as he him. 
self informs us, in walking on the sheltered 
side of a wood, in a cloudy winter day, and 

stride along its summit, while the lightning 
of the tempest, to apostrophize the spirit of 
favourable to devotion—" Rapt in enthusiasm. 



peculiarly awake to every impression of beauty 

- 

The gaiety of many of Burns 's writing,, a:,d 

the lively, and even cheerful colouring with 

which he has portrayed his own character, 

may lead some persons to suppose, that the 

end of his days, was not an original part of his 
constitution. It is not to be doubted, indeed, 



subject verv early to those depressions of mind, 
which are perhaps not wholly separable from 

to e an e un'commo°n decree.' Thl following letter, 
addressed to his father, will serve as a proof of 

when he was learning the business of a flax- 
dresser, and is dated 

Irvine, Dec. 27, 1781. 
" Honoured Sir, 
" I have purposely delayed writing, in the 



DIAMOND CAISINtrr l.iniUlI Y. 



appears was nearly 

reasons, which I shall tell jon at meeting. My lion hud formed to itself pic-turn. 

health is nearly the same as when Bit despair of making a 

here, only my sleep is a lit tit- sounder, and, on figure in the world, shows bow ardently he 

the whole, I am rather better than otherwise, wished For honourable fame ; au<! I 

though I mend by very blow degrees- The of life, founded jon this despair, U the genuine 

my nerves has so debilitated my expression of a youthful generous mind. In 
mind, that I dare neithi I of reflection, and of suffering, in- 
ner look forward into futurity; f..r (be least imaginntionof Burns naturally passed the dark 
anxiety or perturbation in my breast, produces boundaries of our earthly horizon, and rrstrd 
most unhappy effects on my whole frame, on those beautiful representations of a bctt.r 

udeed, when for "an hour or two world, where there is neither thirst, nor hun- 

my spirits are a little ' . I rrow, and where happiness shall be 

lillle into futurity; but my principal, and in proportion to the capacity of happiness, 

indeed my only pleasurable employment, is Such a disposition is far from being at 

looking backwards and forwards in a moral variance with social enjoyments. Those who 

and religions waj. I am quite transported at hare studied the affinities of mind, know that a 

the thought, that • r.- long, perhaps ti ,;. soon, melancholy of this description, after a while, 

that it has no distant connection wilh the tlow 
I i i Id it; of cheerfulness, or even the extravagance of 

nnd, if Idoi myself, 1 mirth. Il was a few days after 1 hi 

could contentedly and gladly resign il. " 1 this letter that our poet,"" in giving a welcom- 

ing carousal to the new year, with hi, gaj 

Basts and expatiates in a life to come. ' nsnmed to ashes. 

■ i exhnust- 
j his daily labours, the • 1 

. 

■ns. Some time previous to bis cugnge- 

t as a flax-dliwir, having heard that a 

.t. baling club had been established in Ayr, he 

r.soUed to trt how such a uieriiiig t 

ceed in the village- of Tarbolton. About the 

sort, iho declared objects of which v 



• It is for this reason I am r 

b the 15th, 16th, and 1 7th vers 

chapter of Revelation, than with any te 



e Bible, 'and 
thusiasm wilh which debat 
lej [aspire me for all thai this world hi 
Bier. As for this world, I de-pnir of 



not exchange the nt 



irily probubly nw 






•laity 



u my grateful tl 



,1 Mrs'.Mnii 



mind, 'lb'e 
l ■ d by Hun.,, 
uere to meet after the I 

,. git.u pllhlic-lmilse i„ ibe villag, . 

o late. l'.e- pr..|..r ■ 
• mother, nnd my order and decorum ; 
Mnir; and, with the members 'were to choose > aobji 
mrrt .\.-n i imi ui the • n-uii .- 

. 
am, bom pence; and. with Ihe humhle potation that 

i \S." mistresses, Kn./'ij cult! 

...Il other. This society ountinned Its meet- 

r.gularly for some time; and in ihe 

ants of their pi 
ik, into which II 

t, whieh is 
work of • 

in bis n.- 



: 

nearly out, but 1 am 
• fi re the 

■ •■o vt :,- I i. in! !•-. • :.-- -loot bistort of ill. .1 II 






' 



BURNS. -LIFE. 



Bui plough 


men and median 


ics we, 




la Nafur 


•a simple dress 


eeord. ' 




"As the gre 


it end of human society 


s to 




id better, this o 




i'o,v 


to be the prineip 


al view of every 






station of life. 


But as cxperier 




'-''': 


us, that such s 


udies as inform 


the head 




mend the heart, 


when long con 


nued, are 




to exhaust the 


faculties of the 








er to relieve an 


d unbend 


the 


mind by some 


employment or 


another. 






enough to keep 








be same time no 






to exhaust them 


. But superadded to thi, 


. "y 


frr the greater p 


art of mankind 




the 


necessity of ea -ning the gluten 


m, nf h, 




life by the labau 


of their b, ,ii^ 


wh r,bs 




only the faculli 


•s "of the mind. 


but the n 




and sinews of t 






















ried 


man worn down with the nee 


essary lab 


ours 


° " As the best 


of things, howe 


rer, have 


leen 










the pretence of a 








have plunged in 


to all the madn 


ss of riot 




dissipation; a, 


d instead of at 


ending tc 


the 


with extrav"^ 


ee and folly, a 


id ended 


fill! 


guilt and wretcl 


:tthefonS 


l?\"\ l] 'u 


"Z 


parish "of Taroo 


ton, viz. Hu 2 h 


Reid, R 




Burns, Gilbert 


Burns, Alexn 






Walter Mitchel 


Tiromas Wrigh 


, aud Wi 




M'Gavin, resol 


"*■ ™*» a n c 


that whi 


un- 


should forget o 


r cares and la 














bounds of innocence and decor 






weTehf our fir? 








meeting at Ta 




the 


house of John R 


ichard, upon the 




the 


11th of Novem 


ber, 17S0. con 






Hallowe'en, un 


1 after choosing 


1! ,1 T! I 




president for the 










— ; Suppose a yo 






a farmer, but w 


ihout any fortun 




bis 


power to marry 


itheroftwow-o 






person, nor agr 


"able in convers 




V. 'k> 




household aflfair 


of a farm 




enough ; "the ot 




wa ; , 


agreeable in p 








baviour, but \ 


ithout any fort 






them shall he cb 


oo,e?' Findin 






happy in our so 


iety. we resolve 


ltocontin 










the 


way and manne 






reaf- 


ter we chose Robert Ritchie for 






ber. In May. 


7S1, we brough 


in David 






e, Adam Jamiso 








ling of the year 


K---\ w 


ad- 


milled Matthew 






and 


in June followir 




~s Patlers 






°for such a soci 


ty. The 




being thus incr 


eased, we resoh 






Tarbolton on the race night, tt 


e July fo 


low- 


* The person 


to whom Burn, 


addressc 


his 


E^.Mic to Dock 


, a brother pot'i. 







.hail d 



thinks proper. 

2d. When the club is met, the president, or, 
he failing, some one of the members, till he 
come, shall take his seat ; then the other mem- 
bers shall seat themselves ; those who are for 

hand ; and those who are for the other side,"on 
his left; which of them shall hava the right 
hand is to be determined by the president. 

present shall have power to transact any ordS 

3d. The club met and seated, the preside.it 
shall read the question out of the club's book of 
records, (which book is always to be kept by the 
president) then the two members nearest the 
president a ball cost lots who of them shull speak 

n the other side shall reply to him ; then 

n the second member of the side that spoke 
ond, and so on to the end of the company ; 



:nt shall giv< 



5th. The club shall, lastly, elect a new ] 
my of the club may n 



whoever of them ht 



e first v< 



duly e 



; allowing the 



stresses of the club, thev 
shall dismiss. 

6th. There shall be no private conversation 
carried on during the time of debate, nor shall 
any member interrupt another while he is 
speaking, under the penalty of a reprimand 
from the president, for the lirsl fault, doubling 



DIAMOND C.MHVF.T LIBft.UtY. 



Ilic philosophical mind will dwell with in- 

biued so skilfully lio i 

a smile on iVese simple annul,, let HI tract that 
il will be a smile of benevolence and oppn.ua- 
tiuti. Il i. with regret ilia! Ihe seiju-1 of ill' 
hisiorv of ibe Bachelor's Club of Tarbolton 
must be lold. Il survived several years after 
our poet removed from Ayrshire, but, no longer 
sustained by his talents, or cemented by his 
social affections, its meetings lost much of 

dissension arising amongst its members, the 
and the regulations were spared - —' 



o posterity. 

family of our bard n 



mtplr, t 



it Mauchline were n 



Mauchline it was tiled, that ihe mo 
in-, should be set apart for the | 
books ; and the first work procui 
manner was the Mirror, the separa 

end published in volumes. After il 
number of oilier work-, chic.lv o 
nature, and among these the L >u 



his share of the reckoning for the second ; tre- 
I ling ;i for the third, and so on in proportior 
lno r. ,.:!i.r fault; provided always, how- 
ever, thai -■ ai any tim< 
after leave asked and gi.en by the president. 
All swearing and profane language, and par- 
ticularly all ob-c. lie mid indecent 
is ,lriclly prohibited, uuder the same 



inltj 



7th. Nomeml 
shall mention an 






s article. ' 



. member ,lnli attend at 

ings, without he can give, a prop 
for not attending ; an 

. . r ; and he * 



i, .hall be wmmi 



duet, and more susceptible of improve! 
Ihan the self-sufficient mechanic of co 
■ l f-rence to the Comer,: 
•ocietv of Mauchline, it may be doubted, 
ther the books which they purchased wen 
kind best adapted to promote the intere* 
happiness of persons in this situation ol 
'Ihe .Win or and the Loungrr, though wo 
great merit, may be said, on a general vi 



the knowledge, than 

morality itself, whicl 
fectly pure, may be o 

They are, indeed, re 



refine the taste of tbos. 






to a h._*li oa gim of 
lo mis circumstance it is perhaps 
ley exhibit little or nothing of 
be peculiar manners of the age or country in 
rhicb they were produced. But delicacy of 
iste, though the source of many pleasures, is 

: desirable, the possessor should perhaps in 
II cases be raised above the necessity of bodily 
ibour, unless indeed we should include under 



shall partake 



aste immediately presides. Delicacy 
may be a blessing to him who has the 
of his own time, and who can choose 



re, the cultivi 
t faculties whi 



itiou iii iuelf, and opens 
gratifications. To men 
-*— of opulence and 



nployment <0 
employment. 



e happiness of the p 

ii. u mi>rbid >e!i>ibi!»ly, or, io use 
n of .Mr Hume, that delicacy of 






appear, c 



when, if he fail 

he shall be cxcli 

sixteen members, all bachelors. Belonging lo 
the parish of Tarbolton ; except a brother 
member marry, and in that case he may be 
continued, if the majority of the club think 
person shall be admitted a mem- 
ber of this society, without the unanimous 
c.iis.-ut of ihe club; and any member may 
withdraw from the club altogether, 

notice lo the ; : 



the female seV. .No h 

the re.l of ihe club, and especially no inrali- 

spinled, worldly in irtal, I 

heap up money , shall upon an) p I 

ever be admitted. In short. 111* proper person 

... is a eii ...-riiii no n et b u nte d 



BURNS LIFE. 



5 ant, had the delicacy of hia taste equalled the 
; - Mobility of his passions, regulating all tht 
. IVusions of his muse, and presiding overall 



throughout society, which sometic 






pursuit of 
Homer or 









ad, of 



s beauties of 

(serrations' are not offered without 

m of doubt and hesitation. The 

iscussion. 3 It^na.y'u '.' 

and, that the lirst step to improve- 

and that this vyill he most effectually done br- 



eading, 



. The< 



.rl of the 
i Scotlaj 



under this description. It may be farther ob- 
served, that every human being is the proper 
judge of his own happiness, and, within the 

peasantry to give a preference to works of taste 
and of fancy.* It may be presumed they find 

works ; and it may be added, that it is of more 
consequence they should be made happy in their 

means, or with the desire, of rising above it. 
Such considerations are doubtless of much 
weisjbt ; nevertheless, the previous reflections 
may deserve to be examined, and here we shall 
leave the subject. 

Though the records of the society at Tarbol- 
ton are lost, and those of the society at Mauch- 
liue have not been transmitted, yet we may 



* In several lists of bock-soeieii s anions ;1 
poorer classes ia Scotland which the Edit 
has seen, works of this description form 
great part. Th.se society are I; 



afelv affirm, that 
nemberof bothtli 
veil calculated t< 



of these soci, 
each pe 

rting h 



where the subject of conversation is fixed 

,■.,., -.: ■, -i ... .■. _■....: 

asteninc the evolution of talents. Such an 
ssociation requires indeed somewhat more of 



n all other free governm. 



kind ought perhaps to be founded. 

The first requisite of every kind of elocution, 

time, and of lone practice. Children are always 
defective in dear articulation, and so are young 
people, though in a less degree. )\ hat is 
called slurrins in speech, prevails with some 
persons through life, especially in those who 



Female occupations require much use of 
speech, because thev are duties in detail. Be- 
- being generally seden- 
tary, the respii rty. Their 
, b.l.ty as. 



■0 ! I LIliRAItY. 

i -realcr fluency of .pe«h, and a 

in. -ii who have not mingled early aud familiarly 
with the world, though rich perhaps in know- 
ledge, nod clear in apprehension, it u oft. 



painful to observe the difficulty with wbi 

are communicated by speech, 
through the want of those habits, that connect 
>.rds, and sounds tocclher ; which, 
m as if they had arisen 
spontaneously, but which, in truth, are the 
result of long and painful practice, and when 
analyzed, exhibit the phenomena of moat cu- 
rious and co-nplicaled as 



.ueh 1= 



M-becni 



hey may be said to put each mera- 
I ilie knowledge of all the 

ollUion of opinion, excite the faculties of 
n and reflection. To those who wish to 
use their minds in such intervals of labour 
e condition of a peasant allows, this me- 



may prevent I 
v which gcuiu 



h genius being bewildered, science is 
u debased, and error propagated through 
«»ive generations. And to men who, b*T- 

e of their education, are I 



■ most useful, und the most rational of gra- 

W In t!i. r. in the humble societies of which 

formation, may perhaps be questioned. Ii 
unot bowerer be doubted, that by collision, 
i heultiet of hie in. ud would be excited, that 
practice, his habits of enunciation would be 



" \\ III n letters and philosophy Wl re eulli- 

niultiplied the tablet, . i 

nnd ii .Ml) produced the habit . : 

il is. re in .-..mi I. l'uel, were fi.ulld reciting 

their own vet,. . in public ii.icm 
lie schools only philosophers tell 
■peculations. The taste of the bearers, the 



[o the world . u well 01 

ll -1111111. nl.. were nginn mill again rrluut-hed 

mi, I ini|.i..M.i. Death alone put I 



and tbu< wc hare some explanation 
of that early command of words an 
sion which enabled him to poor forth his 
thoughts in language not unworthy of h!s 
genius, and which, of all his endowments, 
•eemed, on his appearance in Edinburch, the 
most extraordinary, i For associations of a 
literary nature, our poet acquired a considerable 
relish ; and happy had it been for him, after be 
emerged from the condition of a peasant, if 
fortune bad permitted him to enjoy them in the 
degree of which he was capable, so as to have 
fortified his principles of virtue by the purifica- 
tion of bis taste, and given to the energies of 
his mind habit, of exertion that might have ex- 
cluded other associations, in which it mu-t Le 
acknowledged they were too often wasted, as 
well as debased. 

The whole course of the Ayr is 6ne ; but 
the banks of that river, as it bends to the east- 
ward above Mauchiine, are singularly beautiful, 
and they were frequented, as moy I 
by our poet in his solitary walks, lire the 
-iled him. In one of these wan- 
derings, he met among the woods a celebrated 
lieauty of the west of Scotland ; a lady, of 
whom it il said, that the charms of her person 

This incident gave rise, as might be expected. 



bich he inclosed it 



TO MISS 

Jloagid, 1SIA.Y 
"Madam, 
" Poets are such outre beings, so much the 
children of wayward fancy' and capri ious 
whim, that I believe the world generally allows 
them n lar U ". r latitude in the laws of propriety, 

i the lileriirs 

that a nameless stranger has taken with you 
in the inclosed poem, which he begs leave to 
with. Whether it has poetical 
merit any way worthy of the theme, 1 am not 
the proper judge ; but it is the l.e,t m\ al ilities 

perhaps be a lupcilu r grates, it is equally sin- 



Tarboli . 

prepared for these meetings ; and urn. 
tile heads of a speech on the ( it. Btt . 
in p. 27. in which, as might le . 

nd.TU 1 side of the question. The 

following, nmv serve as a farther spccimcii of 

Inhaled in the society at Tarbol- 

ton : — •• \N lielln r .!.. we drriic more happiness 

■ 

lout* each 



BURNS LIFE. 



" The scenery was nearly taken from real 
life, though I dare say, madam, you do not 
recollect it, as I believe you scarcely noticed 

had roved out as chance directed, in the favour- 
ite haunts of my muse, on the banks of thi 
Ayr, to view nature in all the ftiaierj of ill. 
vernal year. The evening sun was flaming 
over the distant western hills : not a breatt 
stirred the crimson opening blossom, or thi 



hand, with a congenial kindred n 



eye your elusive Bights to discover your secret 
recesses, and to rob you of all the property 

jtlings. Even the hoary hawthorn- 



hold Commerce with aerial beiu-s ! Had 

Calumny and Villany taken my walk, they bad 

" What an hour of inspiration for a poet ! It 
would have raised plain, dull, historic pro=e 
into metaphor and measure. 

"The inclosed song was the work of my re- 

what might be expected from such a scene. 
••Madam. 

" ROBERT BURXS. " 
•Twos even—the dewy fields were green, 
The Zephyr wanton'd round the bean, 



With careless step I onward strayed, 



rfection whispel 

Uehold the lass o' BaUochaij 



L Th^livl hu?and rose's dvf 
Bespoke the lass o'Ballochur 



ing through the garden nay, 



There all her charms she does compile 
Even there her other works are foil'd 
By the bonny lass o' BaUochmyle. 



Then pride might climb the slippery steep, 
Where fame and honours lofty shine ; 

And thirst of gold might tempt the deeo. 
Or downward seek the Indian mine : 

Give me the cot below the pine, 
To tend the flocks or till the soil, 



th the bonny lass o' BaUochmyle. 

e manuscript book in which our poet 



and of such a poem she 
herself as the proper judge. 






1 more of tenderness than of respect. In- 

object of his admiration, he presumed to reduce 

_ _Jty to his daring bosom. It is true, Burns 
might have found precedents for such freedoms 
amjog the poets of Greece and Rome, and in- 
of every country. And it is not to be 



/of P ™ 






what purp. 

lieh is the . 

u charms, 

ription of men w 



are incapable of control ? 

" The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, 
Are of imagination aU compact. ' ' 

It may be easily presumed, that the beautiful 
nymph of BaUochmyle, whoever she may have 

of our poet, though she received them with 
silent modesty and dignified reserve. 

The sensibility of "our bard's temper, and 
| the force of his imagination, exposed him in a 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBIlAItY. 



id ill. lr i. . , nf which will soon 

01 of nature 

Mud sensibility to which thrj gare birlh. 

entitled Highland .Vary, i« known 

iru written," says our bard, "on one of the 

ini died curly in life, 









Tlmu lineering star, with l.-senii 

Thai latest to greet the earlj m 

o Mary ! dear depart 

i [lij |.i\i r lowly laid '! 
lle.ir'-l tli'.n llo groans ill:. I r.-l 

I 'mi 1 l..r-,t the hallow - d grov. 



I : 
The fragrant birch, mid hawthorn In. ir. 

The birds sang love on ■ 
Till too, loo soon the glowing nest 

bi speed of winged day. 
Null i.'.r ill.-.- scenes my mem'ry wal.s, 



•mis tin ,1 ehanneht dee 



To III,- d.liiioaliotis ..f III.- poet by himself, 

... In order that the r 

■ ■-I i„.ii. ( 



him. and I 

may ■ 



llIlM, III 1 

.1,1. 

| I 



The form of Mossgicl. at lite time of our 
,1781 v .- the pro. 
pcrty of the carl of Loudon, but was held in 
tack by Mr Gavin Hamilton, writer in Mauch- 
in we had our bargain; who had 
ihui an opportunity of knowing and showing a 
sincere regard for ray brother, before he knew 

..-? of his character, 
'lie dedication to this 
\S li. ii the publication wu begun. 
rerj warmly into it- 
nnd promoted the subscription >erj l Tliwneh. 
I ,ti Ayr, is a man of 
worth and taste, of warm affections, and con- 
nected with a most respectable did 

I ;■ this gentleman The 

Colter'g Saturdav Night is inscribed. The 
poems of my brother, which I hare formerly 
mentioned, no sooner came into his hands, than 
they were quickly known, and well r 
the' extensive circle of Mr Aiken', friends, 
' ' • -n a .-..rt of currency, necessary 
i rid, even for the good reception 
of things valuable in themselves. But Mr 
Aiken not only admired the poet ; as soon as he 
became acquainted with him, be -1 

rd for the man, and did every 
limit; in his p.. werto forward bis intere-t and 
. The Epistle to a V 
■■■-■■ 

II. Aiken. . Be WU the 

oldest of a you n; hmilv, who were taught to 
receive my Irmlicr with respect as a man of 
genius mid their father's friend. 

'•The Brigt of Ajfr is in-.-ribrd to John 
Bnllantine, E- ; . banker in \>r; one of those 

gentle ii t.. whom tny trolh-'r was introduced 

by Mr Aik n. 

.-hip and attachmeiit 

. the Kilmarnock edition was all 

sold oil", and a considerable demand pointed out 

.f publishing a sccoud edition, 

who had printed tli, 

ind take hie 

■ paid froai ihe br-t sale. Thi. 

he declined; and when this came to Mr Bal- 

lontine's kn . affarad lo 

It., I. rl wilh w I. .it ii,., n. _v he uii_;tit 

Idiul.urgh, ns the lillesl place for 
When he did go to Edinburgh, I 
advised him to pitbli-ll again by -i 

. Id not need to accept this offer. 
Mr Willi:..,, i Uluaraoek, 

was a subscriber for thirty -live copies of the 
hiltnnrnock edition. This may perhaps appear 

urily of the poet, at • 
nto consideration, it appears lo me a 
many (lung. 
rlv printed, which appear note hrlUunl In . . 

unie. li i-. I.., 

I 



BURNS — LIFE. 



» hah 



acted the notice of the gentle- 



■which will perhaps be found neither u: 



n the month 






-,„,h i 






r bard a; 
:ing the Scottish 

r olis. He was acquainted with Mr 

Stewart, professor of Moral Philosophy in the 
University, and had been entertained by that 

. -1 by Mr Alexander Dal- 
zel to theEarlofGleiicairn, who had expressed 
his high approbation of his poetical talents. 
He had friends therefore who could introduce 

fashion, and his own manners and appearance 
exceeding every expectation that could have 

arrived in Edinburgh, the periodical paper, 

son might be said of him with great propriety, 
that he held the patent of his honours immediately 
from Almighty God. Nature had indeed mark- 
ed him a gentleman in the most legible charac- 
-"'1 yet a jr~- 



though frequently beautiful essays, is devoted 
to An Account of Robert Burns, the Ayrshire 

written by'the elegant pen of Mr Mackenzie.* 
The Lounger had an extensive circulation 
among persons of taste and literature, uot in 
Scotland only, but in various parts of England, 

immediately introduced. The paper of Mr 



ed; 

as well as generous ; and 
sentiments there is that happy delicacy, by 
which the writings of the author are so emi- 
nently distinguished. The extracts from 

The Lounger, were copied into the London, as 
well as into many of the provincial papers, and 
the fame of our bard spread throughout the 
island. Of the manners, character, and con- 
duct of Burns at this period, the following ac- 

to the editor, which he is particularly happy to 



Ediu 






;r Will 



„,;, L 



of Robertlaud, paid a very nattering attention, 

poet. Before his going to Edinburgh, as well 
as after, Robert seemed peculiarly pleased with 
Professor Stewart's friendship and conversa- 

"But of all the friendships which Robert 
acquired in Ayrshire or elsewhere, none seemed 
niore agreeable to him than that of Mrs Dunlop 
of Dunlop, nor auv which has been more uni. 
furmly and constantly exerted in behalf of him 
and of his family ; of which, were it proper, I 
could give many instances. Robert was on the 
point of setting out for Edinburgh before -Mrs 
Dunlop had heard of him. About * u - ' 



my 1. 



i Kilm; 



een afflicted with a long and severe illness, 

a copy of the printed poems was laid on her 
tible by a friend, and happening to open on 
The Cotter's Saturday Night, she read it over 

poet's descr ttagers, oper- 

exoreist* expelling the demon ennui and restor- 



h- w. 


uld do her th 


" i' 1 -'- 


iMir, 


of calliu| a! 


Dunk 


p house as soi 










e beginning of 
only with the J 




rr--j.i-. 


ndence which 






life. 


The last use 












to this 


lady a few da 3 


sbefc 






" CoL "Fullarton," 


who 


afterwards paid a 


yeryp 






the 






country at the 




f hi.- 1 






thor. At this 




nee of 




the hurry of a wet da 


, sn 


itched from labori- 






, hj. 








ho ought to ha 










>n, for which, 


if u 






1,..-. 


I shall be hear 


ilj > 






The 


friendship of 1 


ir, 1 










Vui 


l-.t.l," 


daughter and 


sol,- ll 


iress to Sir Thomas 


Wall; 


ceof Crai-ie, 


and lit 


eal descendant of the 


iilu.l 


ious\S'alla;e, 


the tir 


t of Scottish wa 


rr- r 


,poss 


ssesthequali- 



serving, in the dechne of life, the generous af- 
fections of youth ; her admiration of the poet 
was soon accompanied by a sincere friendship 
for the man ; which pursued him in after life 
through good and evil report ; in poverty, in 



31 



DIAMOND CABINEi LIIillAHY. 



I. our com. 

I am enabled to 

which Boron »m. ;,iirr be ratal 

My excellent and much lamented friend, the 
. Lord Daer, happened to arrlea at 

seme day, and bj tin . 

the mind of the poet, which turret was efTaced. 
._ I allude to are among the most 



poem, had been ju.t pLbli.hed. or was jrt in 

hi. own hai. d- , tttourile 

performance, ; particularly of bi> we, "on 
turning up a Mou,e with hie plough ;"— "on 



This wot ye all whom it concel 
I, Rhymer Robin, alius Burn, 

October tweulv-third, 
A ne'er -to be-forgolteu day. 
Sac far I sprachled up the brae, 

1 dinncr'd Hi' a Lord. 





: i hips of the qui 
Their hydra droutli did slokeu 


Hut wi' a Lord— aland out my shin, 
ALord-n Peer— an Earl's son, 

Up higher yet my bonnet ; 
In' u- ., I.„r i Ian/ - 
Our peerage he overlooks them a', 
As 1 look o'er my sonnet. 


•r; 


for Hogarth's magic power! 
,how Sir Hard j 'i willy nit glowr, 



I >nl.hi|i ,ie il'i ii liu.k, 
1 marked nought iiucuinim.ii. 

The gelilh' | , 

h ,t 1 cuilld .re, 

Mair lli .m iiu bom 



11. - 


M. 


ut.t.in 


)ai.v;"and "the Lament. " 


I'll 


D] 




to Kdinburgh, I show 


ed ill- 










of lb* 








to seseral of my friend 






-' 




, .Mr 11.:. 


. who 


fin 




la public notice 


,1. 1!: = 


U'th on 


mber of 


Thr Lounger. 




so' 


At 


., .-.;,' "g 


Burns 's prospects in life were 
corny, that he bad ,-ri»u,lj 


run 




a |.!n, , 


f jroing out to Janiaii. 




rerj 


In 








:u„ 




ig, lhal 


lit, want of patronage 


koold 


fore 


ehin to thin 
















l.ig 






than the station of an 








■■"'!•' ' 








Hi 




■ wen then, a, tbey con 


mood 



dent ; strongly expressive of conscious gen 
and worth; but without any thing that indi< 
cd forwardness, arrogance, or vanity. He ti 

b longed to him; and listened with appar 
attentloo and deference, on subjects where 



him of the mean. 



rating ; but he had been accustomed to gi»e 

and hi, diead of any thing approaching to 

somewhat decided and hard. Nothing, perhaps, 

tainmeiits, than the lluency, and precision, and 
originality of bia language, when be spoke in 

purity in hi, turn of expression, and avoided 
- ...men, I ho 
Peculiarities of Soottiah phraseology. 

•• lie tame lo Kdinburgh early in the winter 
lllowiog, and remained there for several 





osity to sec a h 


le l,„t. 


of the world j but. 




ided the 






Wlsl.-V 




ii.uelh 


•nine n, iii the. (bra 


r p.,1 of life ; 




idditioo of, what 1 






ile.ely within huntu 








the country agr 


•eable to 


•• The attentions, he 


remind during 


his stay 



noble yoothfol Dm 






EURXS.— LIFE. 



in town from all ranks and descriptions of 

perceive any unfavourable effect which they 

plicitv of manners and appearance which had 
struck me so forcibly when I first saw him in 
the country ; nor did he seem to feel any addi- 
tional aelf-iniponance from the number and 
rank of his new acquaintance. His dress v, as 






s conversation conveyed of the powers of his 

■sted by his writings. Among the poets whom 
have happened to know, 1 have been struck, 
more than one instance, with the unaccount- 
de disparity between their general talents. 



nred i; 



whatever walk of a 



1 the 



t th:-ii 



ainly a favourite one. The remarks he made 



'< The editor has seen and conversed with 



always shrewd and pointe. 



or happy. His attempts at epigram, in Ins 

perhaps, thai he has produced, totally unwor- 
thy of his srenius. 

«' In summer, 17S7, I passed some weeks 

that season to the Highlands, and That he also 

the Tweed. ' UP ° n 

" I should have mentioned before, that not- 
withstanding various reports 1 heard during 
the preceding winter, of Burns's predilection 
for convivial and not verv select society, I 
should have concluded in favour of his bahits 
of sobriety, from all of him that ever fell under 
my own observation. He told me indeed 
himst If, that the weakness of his ttoraach was 



very sedentary and luxurious life, v 



a the c. 



• of the same I 
attend for an 1 



. where Burns 
resided. He had occasion to make short 
npremeditated compliments to different iudi- 
iduals from whom he had no reason to expect 
visit, and every thing he said was happily 
onceived, and forcibly as well as fluently ex- 
ressed. If I am not mistaken, he told me, 
bat in that village, ! efore goi::g to Edinburgh, 
e had belonged"to a small club of such of the 



ing in public had evidently the marks of si 

always considered as characteristical in a high 
degree of true genius, the extreme facility and 
good nature of his taste, in judging of the 
compositions of others, when there was any 



ind for 






ges of English poetry with which 
lit was uuacquainted, and have more than once 

.. ! tears of admiration and rapture 
with which he heard them. The collection of 

hands, he read w ith unmixed delight, notwith- 
standing his former efforts in that very difficult 
species of writing ; and I have little doubt that 
it had some effect in polishing his subsequent 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBKUiv. 

rlWOtO Franklin's Work*, wl 



1 thought vi) nappilj executed, upon the 

model of Addison; but lie did not appear lo 
relish, or to perceive the beauty winch tbey 
derived from their I I 

pared with the point, and eoti 
tjuaiiitncss of Junius. The iuJIucuce of thin 
reentible in his own prose com- 

P 6" ll " i f great and various ex- 

objectl of wondei Uian hll poetical perfor- 
mances. The late Or Robertson used to say, 

seemed lo hun the more extraordinary of the 



and other pieces in 
part of them (lie lo 
childhood, from hi 



poems, by diilcreiit aiitiiors, {.relixcd to ller- 
fey's Mi'ditations ; a book which has alu.iij 
had a very wide circulation among such of the 

country pcopL- of Scotland, as allect to unite 

And "'■■■■ "" ■-■'■• n?" Ihej arc t rUinlj 

below mediocrity J he continued lo read with a 
degree of rapture beyond expression. He took 



worthy character, possessed of a min 
to what might have been expecte 
in life. ■• 






d feeling 



earl, 



id from hi 

ions and example. 1 recollect that he once 
ipj.licd to him (ami he ailitc.l, that the passage 
ivus a literal statement of fact J, the two la,! 
ines of the following passage in the htinttrel, 

be wli.ile of which lie repeated with great 

snthiuiarai ; 

" Slmll I be left forgotten in the dust. 



\\ uli di-uppuiuluieilt. penury. Olid pain? 
iMiiuorlul spring shall y 

Bright through tlr eternal , 

This truth MtWmt, hit limple sirr hiul tmigkt 
In ninth Wuiu alnunt uli Um. 

I t . Boras 'l early eduentin 



English; and win. I ...ling iu hi. scholar a 
more than ordinary ardour for knowledge, had 
been at paint to instruct him in the grammati- 
cal principles of the language. He began the 
study of Latin, but dropped it before he had 
- '■ ed the verbs. I have sometime, beard 

amor, ice. but they seemed lo be such as 

he repeated by rote. I think be had a prrject 



irose from that language. It is possible 
is knowledge in this respect might be 
extensive than I suppose it to be ; but 
u can learn from his more intimate ac- 
mce. It would be worth while lo in- 
whether he was able to read the Freuch 
s with such facility as to receive from 
iny improvement lo his taste. For my 

, but on very strong and pointed era- 



thing of practical geometry, particularly of 

surveying.— All his other' attainments were 

•• liie but lime I saw him was during the 
winter, 17sS-Sy;« when he passed an evening 
with me al Drumsheugh, in ihe neighbour- 
hood of Edinburgh, where I was theu liviug. 
My friend .Mr Alison was the only other in 
company. I never saw him more agreeable or 
interesting. A present which .Mr Alison sent 
him afterwords of his Essays on Taric, drew 
from Burns a letter of acknowledgment, which 
1 remember to have read with some degree of 
surprise at the distinct conception he appeared 
from it lo have formed, of the several princi- 
ples of the doctrine of auoriation. \\ hen I 
saw Mr Alison in Shropshire la-t autumn, I 
forgot lo inquire if the letter be siill inex.sience. 
It it is, v..u nitv easily procure it, by means of 
our friend Mr 1'loulbrooVe." 

The scene thai opened on our bard in P..lin- 
burgh wo, altogether new, and in a rarietj of 

otli.r respects In. l.li interesting, especially lo 
one of bis disposition of mind. To 
piessioll ..1 bis own, be found himself "sud- 
denly translated from the veriest shades of life, " 

into 'the pr nee, and, indeed, into the society 

of a number of persons, previously known lo 
bun b> report nsof the highest distinction in his 
country, and who 



e characters it was natural 



From the men of letters, in genera 
. particularly llullering. 

■• lllair. Dr lire. 






ertsoii, Dr Blair. I>r • 
Mr Mackenrie, and Mi I 



* Or rather IT8B-90. 



1 cannot speak with 



BURNS. -LIFE. 



may be mentioned in file list of those who per- 
ceived his uncommon talents, who acknow- 

tion, and who interested themselves in the 
cultivation of his genius. In Edinburgh, 
literary and fashionable society are a good 
deal mixed. Our bard was an acceptable 
guest in the gayest and most elevated circles, 
and frequently received from female beauty and 
elegance, those attentions above all others most 
grateful to him. At the table of Lord Mon- 
boddo he was a frequent guest ; and while he 
enjoyed the society, and partook of the hospi- 
taiii'ies of the venerable Judge, he experienced 
the kindness and condescension of his lovely 
and accomplished daughter. The singular 
anty of this young lady was illumined by that 

superior 
understanding, wim me nnescanecuons of the 
mind. The influence of such attractions was 
not unfelt by our poet, " There has not been 

to a friend, "in all the : 

grace, and eooduess, the Creator has formed, 
since Milton's Eve on the first day of her ex- 
istence. " In hi-i Address to Edinburgh, she 
is celebrated in a strain of still greater elevation: 



"FairBu 



net strikes th' adoring 
re of Love on high, 



eye, 



This lovely woman died a few years after- 
wards in the flower of her youth. Our bard 
expressed his sensibility on that occasion, in 
verses addressed to her memory. 

was particularly distinguished by James, Earl 
of Glencairn. On the motion of this noble- 
man, the Caledonian Hunt, (an association of 
the principal of the nobility and gentry of Scot- 
land,) extended their patronage to our bard, and 



liberty. . .". .^ . . . . May corrup- 

and may tyranny in the ruler, and licentious- 
ness in "the people, equally find in you an inexo- 
rable foe ! " 

timents, uttered at an era singularly propitious 
to independence of character and conduct, were 

th^v were" addressed, and that they were echoed 
from ever? bosom, as well as from that of the 
E.u-1 of Glencairn. This accomplished noble- 
1 isibility, 



and regularity ; a 



?urns entered into several parties of this de- 
er. His generous affections, his ardent elo- 

fitted him to be the idol of such associations'; 
1 accustoming himself to conversation of un- 
ited range, and to festive indulgences that 

rued restraint, he gradually lost some por- 

gnant pleasures, to be found in the circles 

alteration in his habits of life operated on him 

physically as well as morally. The humble fare 

" an Ayrshire peasant he had exchanged for 

a luxuries of the Scottish metropolis, and 



Of the state of his mind at this time, an au- 

in a book which he procured in the spring of 
17S7, for the purpose, as he himself informs 







Edinburgh, April 9, 17S7. 






seen a good deal of human life 


in Edin 


u'rgh 




"h«e" 


en, 






rks o 






Mr Palgrave,~that, ' half a word fixed 








re'eidie: 








I 






o means a solitary pleasure. I 






e to laugh with me, some one to 


begrav 


V.Ui 








minaiion, with his or her own 






t times, no doubt, to admire my 






penetration. The world are so 


busied with s 






or pleasure, that very few think it 












u-ound them, except where that 








!*££ 




rearing in their fancy. Nor am 




ithstanding all the sentimental 




fliOM. 


l-writers,and the sage philosophy 


of" moralists, 


whether we are capable of so 








as that 


T;f 


an may pour out his bosom, his 



_. soul, with unreserved confident . 

ict which man deserves from man 
m the unavoidable imperfections atte 



if | "For these r. 



I am determined to make 



niVMOVI) CABINET LIUtlAUi. 



these pagci my confidant. I will dutch every I am eo capa 



troclua' and Achates' pardon, I incomer-,- 
and key n security, al least e^uul j is called Urf 



ii of any friend w 

•' .My own private story likewise, my 

adventure*, my rambles ; the frowns and > 

of fortune on my hardship; my poem! 



an, my heart overflowi 



litll whit 



lionally 

llings purchase sc 



a m irkel, or honesty w is 



interest! are uuiled and absorbed by the tie of 
love- 

Wlien thought meets thought, ere from the lips 

And each warm wish springs mutual from the 

There, confidence — confidence that exalts them 
the more in one another's opinion, that endears 
them the more to each unit's hearts, unre- 
Bervedlv 'reigns and revels.' Hut this, is not 
my lot; and, in my situation, u 1 am ariae*, 
(which by the bve 1 have no great chance of 
being), "'.y fates'hould be cast with the I'.al- 
mlsl a sparrow 'to watch alone on the house 
tops. '—Oh, the pity ! 



II either?" 
id I 

The Inte 



neglects me for the 
.* of greatness, or when his eye 
e difference of oar points of elevi- 
10 myself, with scarcely any emo- 
do 1 core for him, or his pomp 



i of the poet in procuring this 

, escribed by himself, were very 

■Tied in i't 

seemingly invidious, but too just few or no incidents, but several 
in friendship, I would cheerluil. and red ttiona, of which the greater part th t 
eruption— the connexion between | are proper for the public eye, will be found in- 

most curious particulars in the book axe the 
delineations of the characters he met with. 
These are not numerous; but they are chiefly 
of persons of distinction in the republic of 
letters, and nothing but the delicacy and re- 
spect due to living characters prevents us from 
committing them to the press. Though it 
appears that in his conversation he was some. 

with whom he lured, nothing of tins kind is 
discoverable in these more dclibera' 
his understanding, which, while they exhibit 
great clearness o' discrimination, ni 
the wish, as well as the power, to bestow high 
as praise. 
By the new edition of his poems. Burns ac- 
quired a mi in of money that enabled lum not 
inly to partake of the pleasures uf Ediuburgb, 



" There are few of the sore evils under the 

the ."imparl-... n how a man of geuiii,] uuv , „f 
uvnwed worth, is received every where, with 
the reception which a mere ordinary eharael r, 
decorated with the trappings and futile disiiuc. 
tious of fortune, meets. 1 imagine a man of 
abilities, his Im-asl glowing with lionet pride, 

honour (.) whom honour in due ; he meet., it a 
treat man's table, a Sijuire something, or a 

, ; he knowa the noble landlord, 
nt heart, gives the bird, or whatever lie i,, a 

;ood wishes, beyond, perhaps, any 
one at table; yet hoiv will it itu.rt I'y him to 
seo a fellow, whoso nbilities would scarcely 
have mode an rightpnmy tailor, 
heart is not worth three farthings, mi 



.• withheld Iron: 



rallj r. 






parts of his 
live by their beauty or their grau- 
ire which th,. return of summer na- 









1 'w I, an. I of its tributary - 

inter.. ted his fancy ; and, 

Edinburgh on tho'tith of May, 17S7,'ou a lour 

through a country so much celebrated in the 

rural songs of Scotland. He travelled on 

horseback, and was accompanied, 

part of his journey, by Mr Aiuslie, now writer 

to who enjoyed much 
of I", friendship and of his com 

contains only occasional remarks on the sceu- 

co'uiit of the author'.' dilterelit stages, and 



the sou ol . 

•• The noble G hoi wounded a 

the soul here, b.-.-IU-e 1 .1 

iMootton, i,,. t.. the 

listed of in . lordship, dun 

that I was with,,, hill a ;....-.[ .,1 thr •. 

down my gogi 

1 I.. ,' e I SO I ell. .Vol, 

good at pail. I 

I I ill love hilll table „llll tUl 

until my d, i 



■ of llerr.vw. 



as,; and a ., 
he contiuued several days, and an 



—LIFE. 

Drybiirgh a 



"erence to living characters prevents our givio 

"Saturday, May 6. Left Edinburgh— Lan 
mermuir hills, miserably dreary in genera 



eeting l 



arly tl 



Heard Dr Bowmaker. . . . 

"Monday. Coldstream — glorious 

at Coldstream with MrAinslie and Mr Forei 
Beat Mr Foreman in a dispute about Volt 
Drink tea at Lennel-House with Mr and 
Brvdoae. . . . Reception extremely do 
ing. Sleep at Coldstream. 

" Tuesday. Breakfast at Kelso— chan 

Tweed. Enchanting views and prospeci 
both sides of the river, especially on the S( 
side. . . . VL,it Roxburgh Pilace- 
situation of it. Ruins of Roxburgh Castle — 

was accidentally killed by the 
cannon. A small old religious r 
old garden planted by the religioi 
aud destroyed by a Hottentot, a i> 
of the Duke's ! — Climate and so 
shire, and even Roxburghshire, si _ 
shire — bad roads — turnip and sheep husbandry 
their great improvements. . . . Low m~- 
kets, consequently low lands — magnificence 
farmers and farm-houses. Come up the T« 
T - J *o Jedburgh, to lie, and 



sh myself goo_ „ 

" Wednesday. Breakfast with Mr Fa 

dens and orchards, 



J ■:-,]. 



once magnificent cathedral. All the towns 
here have the appearance of old rude grandeur, 
but extremely idle. — Jed, a tine romantic little 
river. Dined with Capt. Rutherford, . . . 
retu.n to Jedburgh. Walked up the Jed with 
some ladies to be shown Love-lane, and Black- 
burn, two fairy scenes. Introduced to .Mr 
Poets, writer, and to Mr Somerville, •"-- 
clergyman of the parish, a man, and a gei 
man, but sadly addicted to punning. _ , 



"Jedburgh, Saturday. Was presented by 
the masistrales with the freedom of the town. 

"Took farewell of Jedburgh, with some 
melancholy sensations. 

"Monday. May 11, Kelso. Dine with the 
farmer's club— all gentlemen talking of high 
matters — each of them keeps a hunter from 
L30 to L50 value, and attends the fox-hunting 
club in the country. Go out with Mr Ker, one 
oftheciub, and a friend of Mr Ainslie's, 



abbey, by the way. 
le up the Tweed to 

lkirk up the banks 



exploring this 
ind Mr Hood, 



a-mitage and old castle of Warkswortli 
lorpeth, and Newcastle. — In this town 1 
lent two days, and then proceeded to tl 
mth-west by Hexham and Wardrue, to Ca 
sle. —After spending a few days at Carlis 
ith his friend Mr .Mitchell, he returned in 
cotland, and at Annan his journal terminat 
bruptly. 

Of the various persons with whom he b 
e course of this journe 



,,,■!.: 






urable oi 



n the 



>f the Ti 
bard should find nymphs that were beautiful, 

of these are particularly described in his journal. 
But it does not appear that the scenery, or its 
produced any effort of his mus 



as" to have 


been wished am 


,; ,.. .,.\i' 


Vnnan, Bur 


ns proceeded to 


D4fri-s'. 






J Mossgiel, 


luchline, in 


"Ayrshire, where 


he arrived 


leSthof Jt 


ne, 17S7, after 


an absence 


busy and e 




It will be 


onceived w 




and pride 


received b} 


his mother, his brothers, 




id left them poor 






s ; he returned t 


them high 



jst farthing, the pittance 

owed. 

with them a few days, he 

dinburgh, and immediate- 

ey to the Highlands. Of 



In his i 

- -. 



a friend of Mr 

id and manners, Mr Ker 
my dear old friend Robert 

g in his house elegant. He 
accompanv me in my English tour. 
st%. Dine with Sir Alexander Don ; 



night's stage, Duml 



now I ai 



ered y 






From this journey I 
riends in Ayrshire, with whom he spent the 
nonth of July, renewing his friendships, and 
extending his acquaintance throughout the 
- — very generally 



isited Edinburgh, 



ne 



• -----i ■»-..• 



DIAMOND CAUINI.l LIURUIY. 

« following hi. not expressing in more plowing end fer.ij 

language, bi. impressions of the Cauldrvn Ltim 

. nl] bigblf sublime, and wmenbal 

* of Cla.kmi 



•truck. Th< 

and III Inhabitants, lu (be care of Cyclop*, 
which must have occurred lo every classical 
visitor, presented itself lo Burns. At Stirling 
Ihe prospects from (he castle strongly inter- 



HI 


liourvl feelings had been 


"•"' 


'. 












l'.rl.m. 




5 






on 






udent, t 






as, which had gi 




■ll-i 




took this opport 


mil) ot ,r 








the 


ti 










•• At Stirling we met w 


m 



and thoughtlessness of tomorrow, 
■ized both. Jacobiiical principles in 

'e been suspected, since the revolution 



s apparently opposi 
eserved no memorab 



through the roniai 



and IVi 



on other occasions, 

hich I mention foi 
t when Burns wo; 
»n. accustomed, in 
one or other of hi: 
tone and emphasis 

lie. This he did 01 



„„ .hire 






habited by Mrs Hamilton, will 
pait of whose family Uiirns had been previous- 
ly acquainted. He introduced me to the 
family, and there was formed my first ocquair 
lance wilh Mrs Hamilton \i eldest daughter, I 

Thus WU. I iiid-Me.il.. Hun,, for iwuiirjio 
from which I have derived, and expect furlhi 

••During I residence of about ten days l 

parls of the surrounding scenery, inferior lo 
none in Scotland, in beauty, sublimity, and 
romantic interest ; psjtieularlj I 
bell tl • Of Afgylo; 

iho Cauldron Linn ; and the Ra 



single 



rown by II 



about Ihe height of a hundred feel obo' 
bed. 1 run 

lou.e. Mill 1 duubl II lie li id ml 

I.,.- pleturssqtM, I «.n rsrosmbsr, that tl: 

..;.mird us o 
.: f liliiiurul . 



lady a 









„ lent ornament, interested his feelings more 
powerfully. Ibis T-nerable dame, w.th charac- 
i- r ,'ioa.l dignity, infotmed me, on my observing 

hat I believed she was descended from Ibe fam- 
ily of Robert Bruce, that Robert Bruce was 
sprung from her f.mily. Though almost de- 
prived of speech by a paralytic affection, she 
pre»erved her hospitality and ml 
— in possession of the hero's helmet and 
landed sword, with which she conferred 
on Burns and myself the honour of knight - 

— J remarking, that she had a better right to 



onclude thai it 



old lady's 



el's, a conformity which contributed not a 
lie to the cordiality of our reception and aev- 
tainment.— She gave as her first toast alter 
iner, Aica, L'ncot, or. Away wilh the Slran- 

rs Who these strangers were you will 

idily understand. Airs A. corrects me by 
ling it ihoald be Hooi, or UooJti tatcM, a 

••We Returner "to Ediuburgh by Kinross 
(on ihe shore of Lochleven) and Qiirensfcrrr. 

poor Michael Bruce, who was then alive at 
Kinross, or had died there a short while before. 

deserted cottage and eorly grave of poor Bruce, 
would have been highly interesting. x 

■'At Dunfermline we visited the ruined 
abbey, and the abbey-church now eonsecral.d 
to Presbyterian worship. Here 1 mounted 
the cutty «W, or 6tool of repentance, assum- 

while Hums from the pulp I addressed lo ire 

from that which had been delivered "to birr.self 

once been one of seven who mounted the sroJ of 

" In the church. yard two broad flag-slones 
marked Ihe grave of Robert Pnuni, 

lion. He knell and kissed the stone with 
saered fervour, and hearlil) (rant ut mot rroi) 
execrated the worse than tiothic neglect of lite 
first of Scottish heroes, "t 



The surprise expressed by Dr Adair, in his 
excellent letter, that the romantic scenery of 
Ihe Devon should h«>e tailed to call forth any 

I in more glowing laogusge his 
emotions on the sight of the famous cataract 
ol thai river, is similar lo what was felt bv ihe 
friends of Burns on other occas 



* Bros d...l snag | 
I l'tlracled from a letter .1 Dr Aua.i 



BURNS.- 

tame nature. Yet the inference that Dr Adair 
seems inclined to draw from it, that he had 
little taste for the picturesque, might be ceic,-'- 
dbv other 

often refu 



On a Young Lady, residing on the tanks of Ih 
small river Devon, in Clackmannanshire, bi 
whose infant years were spent in Ayrshire. 



she came uncalled, i 
nd at his bidding. Of ail 
ts suggested to him by his 
iricnos ana correspondents, there is scarcely 
one that he adopted. The very expectation 

energies of fancy, it' cum, nunc., ted to Burns, 

■■:' 1 

be explained, why the hanks of the Devon and 

the Tweed form no part of the sulj-cu of his 



A similar t 



mng may p 



viewed tbe Cauldron Linn. Cert 
are no aftections of the mind more deader, 
by the influence of previous expectation, lb 
those arising from the sight of natural objec 
and more especially of objects of grandet 



!t bud on the braes of tl 






veys an adequate idea of such objects, bi 
the mind of a great poet it may excite a 
ture that far transcends them. The ima< 
lion of Burns might form a cataract in l. 

pirUnn with which th, Cauldrc.-i Linn sh ■ u!J 
seem the purling of a rill, and even the mi " 
fails of -Niagara a humble cascade.* 



u;,h.:. : . 



a: !; , % 



ery of the Devon with the eye 

pjet, the following lines, written at this very 

period, may bear witness. 

* This reasoning might be extended will 

kind! To' have formed before-hand a distinct 
pictur 

^ th'them" Though 
be not superior, or even equal to the reality, 



which lasted during the remaim 

Mr Nicol was of Dumfries-shi 

of a descent equallv humble with our po 

' e rose by the strength of his talen 

and fell by the strength of his passions. 

" d in the summer of 1 797. Having recen 

! elements of a classical instruction at 

rish school, Mr Nicol made a very rapid a 

gular proficiency ; and by early u'ndertaki 

! office of an instructor himself, he acquit 



ing, generally lessens the pleasure of the 



d Dr Bro 



tniporary at 



st::; it 



t v ; ,,c 



nt;.tst 



e produced. In 
such cases the second or third inten iew gives 
more pleasure than the first. See the Elements 
of the Philosophy of the Human Hind, by Hr 
s: urn*, p. 4S4. Such publications as The 
Guide to the Lakes, where every scene is de- 

guaje, are in this point of view objectionable. 



perhaps of some well-ft 

-Vice!, by superior learning, carried it from all 
the other candidates. This office he filled at 
the period of which we speak. 



= Ian 



:!ru; t. 






t fails of this effect, i 



tl.rnatire pride of temper, which treats with 
disdain those delicacies in which it bu uot 
learned to excel. It was thus with Ibc fellow- 
travelier cf Burns. Formed by nature in a 
model of great strength, neither lus person nor 



ii they engaged for tlic j.uruey, 
cud passing through the heart of ibc II ighlauds, 
.rthwarda, about ten miles beyond 
Inverness. There they bent thi i 

shore of the uVrmau ^ea to Edinburgh. In 

which will be 'found' in a letter of our 
Lard, they visited a number of remarkable 
scenes, and the imagination of Burns was 
constantly excited by the wild and sublime 
scenery through which he passed. Of this, 
several proofs may be found in the poems for- 
merly printed " Of the history of one of these 
poems, The humbk Petition of Bruar Water, 
and of the bard's visit to Athole II 
particulars will be found in Letters No. 33. ai«i 
1. by the favour ,.f Mr Walker of 
Perth, then rending in the family of thi " ' 
of Athole, we arc enabled to give the fol 

" Un reaching Blair, he sent me no 

inn. The Duke, to whom he brought i 
of introduction, was from home; b 
Duchess, being informed of bis arrival, gave 
him an invitation to sup and sleep at Athole 
House, lie accepted the invitation ; but, ar 
the hour of supper was at torn.- i. 
ged I would in the interval be his guide tbrou-l 
the grounds. It was already growing dark ; 
yet the softened, though faint and nneert un, 
view of their beauties, which ii. 
afforded us, seemed exacllv suited to the st t, 
lings at the time. I had often, likl 
others, experienced the pleasures which STUM 
fr..iii the sublime or elegant landscape, but I 
never saw those feelings so intense as iii Burns. 

Tilt. wber. 
nice, Emm 
he threw turns) If do lb 

help bVinltilg it nii-hl have been here 
which he afterwards introduced into h, 



Or bv th reaper's nightly beam. 






i difficulty I prevailed 01 



wbst he bad been a 



He appeared to have complete reliance c 
own native good sense for directing his 
viour. lie seemed at once to perceive s 
appreciate what was due to the empau 
to himself, and never to forret a proper r 



II l 



1 not arrogate o 



nd manliness, lie tried to exert his abilities, 
ecause he knew it was ability alone gave him 
title to be there. Tbc Duke's fine young 

rank their healths as honrit men and btmnie 
uses, an idea which was much applauded by 
be company, and with which be has very ftli- 
itously closed his poem. 

ride with him through 



ic of the i 



ourbood, and was highly gratii'u 
onceptiot 



of that 



i and strength of expression, 1 will 
remark which he made on his fellow, 
traveller, who was walking at the time a few 
paces before us. He was a man of a robust 
but clumsy person ; and while Burns was ex- 



of bis 









" .Much attention was paid to Bums both 
be/ore and after the Duke', return, of which be 
was perfectly sensible, without being vain; 

the must appropriate return he could make, to 
write some descriptive verses on any of the 
liich he had been so much de- 
lighted. After leaving Blair, he. by the 
Duke's advice, visited the Full, of Knur, aud 
in a few days 1 received a letter from Inverness, 
- inclosed." "J 
It appears that the impression made by our 
poet on the nolle family of Athole wa» in 4 

i the reception he n, 
them, and he often mentioned the two days be 
.p. nt at Alhule-house as among ihe bsppievt of 
his life. lie was warmly invil.-.l 






BURNS LIFE. 



been introduced to Mr Dundas (then daily ex- 
pected on a visit to the Duke), a circumstance 

Burns ''future fortunes. At Athole- house, he 
met, for the first time, Mr Graham of Fintry, 

office in the Excise. 

The letters and poems which he addressed 
to Mr Graham, bear testimony of his sensibil- 
ity, and justify the supposition, that he would 

been elevated to a situation better suited to his 

A few days after leaving Blair of Athole, 
our poet and his fellow-traveller arrived at 
Fochabers. In the course of the preceding 
winter Burns had been introduced to the 
Duchess of Gordon at Edinburgh, and pre- 
suming on this acquaintance, he proceeded to 
Gordon Castle, leaving Mr Nicol at the inn in 
the village. At the castle our poet was re- 
ceived with the utmost hospitality and kind- 
ness, and the family being about to sit down 





Fellow- 




o send 


a servant to couduct Mr Nicol to the 




Burns insisted on undertaking that offic 




self. He was, howeier, accompanie 


dby a 


gentleman, a particular acquaintance 
Duke, by whom the invitation was de 




in all the forms of politeness. The inv 


nation 



w hich he had'already suffered* He had ordered 
the horses to be put to the carriage, being de- 
termined to proceed on his journey alone: and 
they found him paradinsr the streets of Focha- 
bers, before the door of the inn, venting his 
anger on the postilion, for the slowness with 
which he obeyed his commands. As no ex- 
planation nor entreaty could change the pur- 
pose of his fellow-traveller, our poet was 
reduced to the necessity of separating fro n 
him entirely, or of instantly proceeding with 
him on their journey. He chose the last of 
these alternatives : and seating himself beside 
Nicol in the post chaise, with mortification 

Castle,° where he had promised himself some 
happy days. Sensible, however, of the great 
kiudness of the noble family, he made the best 
return in his power, by the following poem. * 



Streams th 


t glide in 


or if 


Ne 




d by wint 






wing he 












Fr 






,-,i 


Th 


»se, their richly g 





anks ly Castle- Gordon. 



Hapless wretches sold to tc 
Or the ruthless native's we 
Eent on slaughter, blood, e 



Dearest to the feeling soul, 
She plants the forest, pours the flood, 
Life's poor day I'll musing rave, 
And find at night a sheltering cave, 
Where waters (low and wild woods wave, 
By bonnie Castle Gordon, f 

Burns remained at Edinburgh during the 

tered into the society and dissipation of that 



■ 31st 



the birth-day of the lineal descendant ol 
cottish race of kings, the late unfortunate 
e Charles Edward. Whatever mighl 

utorsofthis annual meeting, there is nc 
a to suppose that the gentlemen of which 
is at this time composed, were not per- 
fectly loyal to the king on the throne. It is 

hope of, any wish for, the restoration of the 

which th? recoUectmn of faUen g 
calculated to inspire ; and commemorated the 



upon himself the office of poet-laureate, and 
produced an ode, which, though deficient in 
the complicated rhythm and polished versifica- 
tion that such compositions require, might, on 
a fair competition, where energy of feelings 

won the butt of Malmsey from the real laureate 



Nor think to lure us as in days "of yore, 

We solemnize this sorro"wing"natal day, 

To prove our loyal truth— we can no more ; 
And, owning Heaven's mysterious sway , 
Submissive, low, adore. 



DIAMOND CABINET I.IBRAKY. 



From great Dundee, w 
Ami fell* 

•IV. bold I5.ii;. 
host) soul, of lire, lighted a 



Deuces the tin 

claim 






..-.ill d 



Not unrevenged yuur fate shall be ; 

It only logs, the fatal hour ; 
Your blo..d abjiU with incessant cry 

Awake at last th' unsparing power 

As lr..m the cliff, «.lli ihiiinl.-rnig cu 

Willi doubling speed and gathering 1 
11 deep it crashing is helms the cottage i 



In relating the incidents of our poet's life i 
Ed.nburgh, we ought to have mentioned lb 
seutimenls of respect and sympathy with whicl 
he traced out the grave of his predecesso 
J-'ergusson, over whose ashes, in the Canongal 



genius, many « 


hel-oniinu'd"'! 


Neither should 






iendabi 




perienced from 




ng, il. 


amiable 


nnd accomplisl 


ed Blacklock.- 


-To ins 




ig-.ng udiice i 


was owing (U 


has al 


id] ip. 


>enred) that 11 








West Indies, repaired to lidi 


■ huigi.. 


He re- 


ceived him there with all the 


ardour 


of allec- 


tionatc admira 


on ; be eagerly 


i lllird 


ced him 



generous and feeling heart, i 



Burns was Mr Uamsiiy of Ochtertyre, 

Of 1787, nt bu delightful retirement in 

i Siiii.ng, mid on the haul 

ih- Teith. 01 toil visit we have the folkn 



l i, im i. en iii iii ■ 






- of it 



..I III.- III. .11. 

in., re delighted, tin retort-, man will 

my for two da)s, tt le-u-t.lt-. In 

mixed company I shuulJ lime in.ide little o 

hull ; for, in the ;• mi. -.!.T's phr.ise, he did lie 



* In Hi. I 
lielllllil'lll in . 

i lie... ii. 



always know when So pliy off end when to 
play on. . . I n»t or.ly prop-. ■• . to him l),o 
ttrMiii^'of i play similar In me I 
hrrd, qualtm drcrt rsse mrrorrm, i . 

j. let which Thouisou has by no 



a pencil 



e Gtnlle Shrphcrd, 



Bol to bum' 

wanting. 



might 



It-ral-d 



her of these plans, 
:uon from company were 
not talents. When I asked bin. 
the Edinburgh Literati bsd mended 
hi- poems by llieir criticisms, • S j-, ' said be, 
' these gentlemen remind me of some spinsters 

that it is neither lit fur weft nor woof. ' He 
said he had nut changed a word except one, to 
please Dr Blair."* 

Having settled with hit publishrr.Mr Creech, 
in February, 17SS, Burns found himself mas- 
ter of nearly live hundred pounds, after dis- 
charging all bis expenses. Two hundred 
pounds he immediately advanced to his brother 
Gilbert, who bad taken upon himself the 
support of their aged mother, and was strug- 
gling uitu'manv. difficulties in the farm of 
With the remainder of Ibis sum, 
and some further eventual profits from bis 
poems, be determined on settling himself for 

from Mr Miller of Dalswimon," the^arnTof 



n put on the list of cand 
office of a gauger or ei 



When Horn- had in ibis manner arranged 
i plans for futurity, his generous heart 
ned to the object of his most ardent atlacb- 

ise of honour and affection, he joined with 

i and reudering it peruia- 



legulizing Iheir 

mill known in Edinburgh, a 
ail poetii h.ul r. ciiiiiiriidej him 
to .Mr Miller of |).ils»i,,(„n. I .... 

Mr Miller hid in. ilea him in lb 

I. s.. to ii. .. 

him at the same lime Ihe ch.lce of oil) of his 



• ,: Ukr front Mr Ramuu to lha 

I >r.- he n.riM.I in Edinburgh ; for, iu regard to 

I I II. i III, .1 v> In. Il in . . 

■ 



BURNS LIFE, 



his friends might judge proper. It was not in 
the nature of Burns to lake an undue advan- 
tage of the liberality of Mr Miller. He pro- 

than usual deliberation. ' Having made choice 
of the farm of Ellisland, he employed two of 
his friends, skilled in the value of land, lo ex- 

arent to' Mr Miller, which was immediately ac- 
cepted. It was not convenient for Mrs Burns 

Ellisland, to prepare for the reception of his 

end of the year. 

The situation in which Burns now found 
himself was calculated to awaken reflection. 
The different steps he had of late taken were 

said to have, in some measure, fixed his destiny. 
He had become a husband and a father ; he 
had engaged in the nil"-™"' «■■* = -«"-- 
derable farm, a difficult 
taking; in h 
family was il 






s respeciing'the fu 
ually the slate of his 



io.ru 



folio? 



AY ill none of you in pitv 
What 'tis you are, and ' 

Will make us wise as yc 



where, as Thomson says 
' Tell us, ye dead : 



shortly be'? 



' gladly laj me in my 



the silly vessel, or in the listless 

•>--- ~ :J dy follies, 
ugh half- 



eck. Farewell now to those g 
lined by the bewitching levity- 



poisoning the whole, that, like the p'lains of 
barren, and nothing short of a supernaturally- 



osity, honest pride of 
! own happiness for 
>nld depend (which it 



urge the step I have taken. Nor 



Under the impulse of these reflections 

he himself resumed at times the occupalim 

his skUl°imp r aired.^! I pieas e e'd with surveying "he 

the rearing of a building that -Iu u!d £i\ e ; heli- r 
to his wife and children, and, as he fondly 

domestic content "and peace rose 'en his ima- 
gination ; and a few days passed away, as he 
himself informs us, the most tranquil, if not 






s of bis farm was interrupted by 



* Animated sentiments of any kind, almost 
.Iwavs gave rise in cur poet to some produc- 
ion of his muse. His sentiments on thisocca- 
ion were in part expressed by the following 



I hae a wife o' my ain, 
I'll partake wi' nae-body ; 

I'll gie cuckold to nae-bedy. 



There— thanks to nae-body ; 

I'll borrow frae nae-body. 

I am nae-body 's lord, 

I'll be slave to nae-body; 

I'll tak dunts frae nae-body. 



I'll be sad' for nae-body ; 
If nae-body care for me, 
I'll care for nae-body. 



46 DIA.VOXD CABINET CYBBABT. 


journey, Ik 


letter to the editor, " when passing through 




Dumfries-shire, on a tour lo Ibe south, with 


t'.-il int.. company, :'ud for ;ot lb i 


1 l.uss. Seeing him put quickly 


he bad formed. In ■ little while temptation 


irn, 1 said to my companion, • that 

tin coming to the inn, the hostler 

told us he would be back in a few hours lo 




"ill, fame naturally drew upon him the in- 
tention of hi. neighbours, and In- soon formed 


grant permits; that where he met wilb any 


a enteral acquaintance in th- .li,lrict in which 
I,.- lived. The publie voice had now pro. 


thing seizable be was no better than any other 


gauger, in every thing else, he was perfectly a 


lion need on the subject of his talents; the re- 




ception he had met with in Edinburgh had 


lo him on his return, I proceeded to his bouse. 


hi'iiu.Uurmn^i'liJ ..; 




pleased wilh his uxor Sabina qualii, and the 


Ill- humid- birth, and In- v..., received at the 




table of the gentlemen of Xitllsdalc w til wel- 






deuiy bounced in upon us, and said, as he 




entered, I come, to use the words of Shak- 


, , overthrew 


speare, jlrtced in haste. In fact, he bad ridden 




incredibly tast after receiving my note. We 


flamed 1 nieh temperance 


fell .into conversation directly, and soon got 




inio the mare magnum of poetry. He told me 


ti refore, be- 


that he had now gotten a story for a drama. 


i; m began lo riew b i farm with dislike 


which he was lo call Rob Marqutchan't Elthoa, 



vulgarly called, goo 

betook himself to th 



milder,, striding 
s turned up fur 

lied the principa 



m f Rotcrt Bruce b> 
rs looked j deleated ou the water of Caern, when the heel 
" s boot having loosened in his flight, he 
sd to Robert Macquechan lo fix it ; who, 

king's heel. We were now going on at a great 

fhich put a stop to our discourse, which had 
ecorac very interesting. Yel in a littl- while 
t was resumed, and such was the force and 
ersntility of the bard's genius, that he made 

be tears run down Mr S 's cheeks, 

lti.il unn,rd 10 the poetic strain 

he reports of him afterwards, 
wc shall hardly ever see his like 
as, in truth, a sort of comet in 



,._.„., 



high- 



* The r 


ocm 


of The Wfl 














Mr Ki.ldel 


died 




.-Icgiuc vers 




n, memory 



nrd. i: 
till be 
1 Iron. 



e found I 



member, of hi, family. Hum, recti 

kindness only but friend, hip ; and the sneiel) 

serai "i Friar's Carse was calcu- 
lated to improve hi, habit, n, v.. II 
nets. Mr J roch, to well 

known I . il talent,, 

11. i our p... I. Sir li 
the tin,, | p.i... , ,.., . >in ,| I, ,, 

1 l.i ill. I mles 

ul his count. | ' 



5? u, £ 



Dt do good proportioned to the blaze of light 

displayed." 

imerof 1791, two English gentle- 
..i i...r.,» .... , „ :,i. i.;.„ l« r.. ... 



i, who had before n 



t EUisland. On 
re Intel ' 



"e.l ill anglil.L-. 

loose greal-coi 

broad-sword. 

Ihein with great cordiality, and asked Ibem lo 
share hi, humble dinner— an invitation which 
they accepted. On the table llley found boiled 
beef, with •emtablea and 1 .rl.'v.broih, after 
the manner of Scotland, of which they partook 
heartily. After dinner, the bard lo-ld them 
ingenuously thai he had no win 
lb. in, nothing better than Highland whisky, 
a bottle of which Mr. Iliirns set on ;he board, 
lie produced Si ihe same time hi, punch, 
bowl, made of lmcrary marble, and. mixing 
the spirits with water and sugar, filled their 
glusses, and itnil.d Ihein lo drink.* The 



+ This bowl was i 



le of the sl.i 



BURNS— LIFE. 



travellers were in haste, and beside 


9, the 




flavour of the whisky to their louthrc 


h pa- 




lates was scarcely tolerable; but th 






erous poet offered them his best, a 


J" bU 


Excise, and the society into" which they led, 








resist. Burns was in his happiest moo 


i, and 


choly fate of Burns. His great celebrity made 






him an object of interest and curiosity to stran- 




ariety 


gers, and tew persons of cultivated minds pas- 




die 1. 


sed through Dumfries without attempting to 


He related the tales of his infancy and 


A Lis 


, and to enjoy the pleasure of his 



trie 'in- 


ions 


iii„ p 


werful mind 


. The h 


gh- 


land wh 


skyir 








bie 


bowl wa 


saga 










ished ;' the gu 


estsof 








ght 


of time, 




[he ui 


tates of pruc 








hour of midni 


jht il... 


■ lo=t their , 








ing to 








u-cely 








wh 


•a. ass 


sted by th 


mc 


rnii 




*Bes"id 


shis 


duties 


n the Excis 


and 


his 


so- 


cial pleasure; 


othei 






t,., 


j-ed 


with the 






Burns to h 


s far 






engaged 


in ll 


e form. 












ng books among 






mers oY 








he 












he o 


ecu 


ied 


himself 




onally 




,g -e 










ork of Mr Johnson 










f pu 


blicatio 


n. These 


n r a_- 








nd h 










buted, 


no doubt, t 


5 the abstra 






hla 


thought tr.m 


the In 


»iness of agr 


■iiltu 







good management of Mrs Burns, and though 
his rent was moderate and reasonable, oul 
poet found it convenient, if not necessary, to 
resign his farm to Mr Miller ; after having oc- 
cupied it three years and a half. His office in 
the Excise had originally produced about fifty 



new district, the emolu- 

ig to support himself and 

m, he disposed of his stock 
Sllisland by publi 



ments of which r 
per annum. Hop 
his family on this 



it thee 



h he had tak- 



the irregularitii 

temptations to the si7i that so easily beset 

regularities grew by degrees into habits. 



gag< 



,n the b 



jf relaxation ; and though 

he rjlearly foresaw the consequence of yielding 

finally triumphed over all the power; u: his 
will Yet this victory was not obtained with- 






tion of one of th< 



And among the inhabitants of Dumfries and 

its vieii.it/, there were never wanting persons 

pany him to the tavern ; to partake in the 
wildest sallies of his wit; to witness the 
strength and degradation of his genius. 

Still, however, he cultivated the society of 
persons of taste and respectability, and in their 

muse dormant. In the four years which he 

he attempted any poem of considerable length. 
During this time, he made several exenrsions 
into the neighbouring country, of one of which 
through Galloway, an account is preserved in 
a letter of Mr Syme, written soon after; 
which, as it gives an animated picture of him 
by a correct and masterly hand, we shall pre- 
sent to the reader. 

" I got Burns a grey highland shelty to ride 

tion on the banks of the Dee. In the evening 

from which we had as tine a view of Alpine 

scenery as can well be imagined. A delightful 
soft evening showed all its wUder as well as 
its grander graces. Iniinediately opposite, 
and within a mile of us, we saw Airds, a 

the author of Mary iceep no more for me. t 
This was classical ground for Burns. He 
viewed "the highest hill which rises o'er the 
source of Dee;" and would have staid till 
"the passing spirit" had appeared, had we 
noi resolved to reach Kenmore that night. We 
arrived as Mr and Mrs Gordon were sitting 



d holmX till it expands it 



f A beautiful and well-known ballad, which 

° The moon had climb 'd the highest hill 

Which rises o'er the source of Dee, 

And, from the eastern summit, shed 

i The level low" ground on the banks of a 
iv'er or stream. This word should be adopted 
rom the Scottish, as, indeed, ought several 
thers of the same nature. That dialect is 
ingularly copious and exact in the denomina- 
ions of natural objects. 



mil.-* Ion?, the banks or which, on the south, 
I, ue ami soft landscape of greet 
knolls, natural wo.-d, and here and. there a pre] 
rock. Ou the north, the aspect is- great, 



.IilNET LIURAV.Y. 

Tby fool '• head, quoth S 



uc than the cattle ot BHumr. 
so highly of it, thai he meditate 
Indeed, l4.ehes 

Curdon, whose polished hospi 



Lblj romw. 

' ■ 
ha began 

Mrs Cordon 's 



lap-dog. Echo, was dead, hhe wculd have i 
epitaph for him. Several had been mad 



Ye jarring screeching things around, 
Scream your duteordanljoja ; 



sky was sympathetic with the wretchedness of 
the soil ; it became lowering and dark. The 
hollow winds ached, the lightnings gleamed, 
the thunder rolled. The poet 

wrapt in meditation. In a little while' the rain 
began to fall; it poured in floods upon us. 
For three hours did the wild elements rumUe 
■ UUy-fuU upon our defe 

nk ' r i„*i„ I,,.// IV. »r>l nil 



Oh, oh ! 



..i utterly wet 
r getting utterly drunk. 



'•From Gatehot . 
Kirkcudbright, through a fine country. But 
ben 1 imi-i tell iou that Burns had got a pair of 
Jemmy boots tor the journey, which had been 
thoroughly wet, and which'liad been dried in 

them on again The brawny poet tried foice, 

of toil sort is more trsing to the temper If-*- - 
serious calamity. We were going to 



him. Mercy on ur. huw be did fume and rage ! 

that succeeded. I showed him 

• • • •, across the bay of Migton. Agajnst 

expectorated his spleen, and regained a most 

bumblat . ■ • whom 

he dur. not lose. He had a passing blow at him. 



• Well, I at 



to bring yon to Kirkcudbright 
-^et, without U 
ro.s my saddle in spile of bis 
d in contempt of appearance* j 
. carried tbeai 
. Lai. led they 



Dalzell. But Burns was in a wild and objtre- 



., therefore, oa Mr I 
dine with us in the inn, and had a sery agree- 
able party. In the evening at »' 



ur twice to him. as he rode along, 
that SI .Mary's Isle was the seat ot a Lord; 

in his sense of the word. We arnred alout 

coffee, hit Mary 's Isle U one of the most de- 
lightful places that can, in my opin.on.be form- 
ed by the assemblage of ever} soft but not 
tame otject which constitutes natural and cul- 
tivated beauty. But not to dwell ou its exter- 
nal graces, iet me tell you that we (bund ail 
the family (all beautiful,) at borne, 



but CJrt 



e ltaliai 



Iso. We bad the song of Loi- 

all.ng on Burns to recite hit ballad to ih.il 



a silence as a mind of fee.ing naturally pie. 

which banishes even other thought but the 
contemplation and indulgence of the sympathy 
produced. I -.in my 

opinion, a most beautiful and affecting ballad. 
The fastidious critic may perhaps say, some 
of the sentiments and imagery are of loo elesa- 
led a kind for such a style of composition; 
for instance, ••ibou bell of Heaven thai pass- 
es! by ;" and, •' Ye nastleriag than 
but ibis is a cold-b;ooded objecuoo. which w.u 
be said rather ll 

fed a most happj esening at LorJ 
Selkirk's. We bad. meseiy ■ensMgJ ibe vscic, 

were .quails gratiued. The poet Has 
ed with bis company, and acquitted hiuis.il lo 
admiration. 1 he lion thai bad raged .o sio- 
leotl] iu the morning, was uow a> mild and 
geulie as a lamb, -Vat da« we returned to 
Dumfries, aud ao ends oui per<v 



BURNS. 

Bruce lo bis Iroops, and gave me a copy for 
Dalzell. 

« Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled,' kc." 

Boms had entertained hopes of promotion, 
in the Excise; but circorestances occurred 
which retarded their fulfilment, and which, in 
bis own mind, destnned all expectation of 
their being ever fulfilled. The extraordinary 
events which ushered in the revolution of 
ftance, interested the feelings, and excited the 
hopes of men in every corner of Europe. Pre- 

£omamoiJCen%nd e the day-slar of rea^to 



sumed the features of a demon, and vanished 
in a shower of blood. :_ 

Burns had shared in' the original hopes enter, 
tained of this astonishing revolution, by arUent 
and benevolent minds. The no tin ami the 
hazard of the attempt meditated by the First, 

per ; and the unfettered scope 



of talents, 



ot the mighty 






gratifying tc 

promised so much happiness to the human 
race. And even after the career of guilt and 

it may be presumed, withdraw his partial gaze 
from a people who had so lately breathed the 

or obliterate in his bosom the pictures of hope 
and of happiness to which those sentiments 
had given birth. Under these impressions, he 
did not always conduct himself with the cir- 
cumduction and prudence which his depend- 
ent situation seemed to demand. He engaged 
indeed in no popular associations so common 
at the time of which we speak; but in corn- 
measures, or of the reforms required in the 

■ 
them with a wild and unjustifiable vehemence. 
Information of this was given to the Eoard of 
Excise, with the exaggerations so general in 
such cases. A superior officer in that de- 
partment was authorized to inqui 

conduct. Burns defended himsell 

addressed to one of the board, written with 
great independence of spirit, and with mor 
than his accustomed eloquence. The ofiSct 

favourable "reponT His steady friend, K 
Graham of Fintra, interposed his good ofnc< 
in his behalf; and the imprudent gauger ws 



■fends himself from imputation of diskval 

ntiments on the one hand, and on the other, 

from the charge of having made submissions 

' ir the sake of his oftice, unworthy of his char- 

" The partiality of bit countrymen," he eb- 
!rves, "has brought me forward as a man of 
genius, and has given me a character to sup- 



ation have'l listened to som 
future hackney scribbler, with the heavy ma 
of savage stupidity, exultingly assertir.j 



th.,t 



e found in his work-, 






nificant . 



n the 



st of 



pursuits 



nong tb 



slanderous falsehoods. Burns was a poor ma 

but-IiciH say it! the sterling " 
worth, poverty could not debase, 



iude- 



ras one of the last acts of his life to copy 
etter into his book of manuscripts, ac- 
mied by some additional remarks on the 



on the mind of Burns. Fam 

dismissed from his oflice : at 
duced a gentleman of much 
propose a subscription in h 



dinary vigilance in those intrusted with the 
administration of the government, and to insure 
the safety of the constitution was doubtless 
their first duty. Yet generous minds will la- 
have robbed the imagination of our poet of the 
rested, and by emlilt.-ring hi- ft ace, have ag- 

conduct him to an untimely grave. 

Though the vehemence of Burns's temper, 

might lead him into many improper and un- 

doubt of 'hTattachmenMo "on? mixe"?™ of 
government. In his common-place book, 

might -be my sentiments of republics, ancient 
or modern, as to Britain, I ever adjured the 
idea. A constitution which, in its original 
principles, experience has proved to be every 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Hi rns appeared in the rank- of the I>uuilri— • 
volunteers, and employed bis political talent, 
in atimulatin:; 1 1 ■ . ■ . r patrioti»iii ; and at this 
season of alarm, he brought forward the fol- 
lowing bymn, worth] of the (irecian muse, 
■ was mo.l conspicuous for genius 

Scene— A Field of Battle— Time of the day, 

Ihc tcounded and dyin 
my ai t supposed to join in the foU 
loicing Song. 

Farewell, thou fair day, thou green eorlli, and 

.Ml, th.. bright slli.gslln; 



Our race of existence is 

Thou grim king of terror 

Go, frighten the cowan 



ti lit. • = 



. fell tyrant ! Lut 
No terrors' hast thou to the brave ! 
Thou striked the dull peasant, he sinks in the 



■',. of a 



' 



riod of life, to that 
of digestion, which 
thought, ami whicl 
sometimes the cam 

Connected with th 



bead-ache, affeetio. 

, . .s and eyc-balls, and 

I the heart. Endowed by nature 
his corporeal, u well as in his mental system, 



Mu-ical .Museum. The 
I l.. music, 
■ t The milti.i'l nr.l..,,, 

srd tbi ihrc .i.n.-d invasion, 

•' " ' 'I', n n.'ij I ilo- i 

eive Donuluritv to this noblt ] m ; wbloh, to 

ii in am produ 

printed with his last eomo- 



ine illllol . 
I 



to disease, which strict temperar 
regular exercise, and sound sleep, night base 
subdued, habits of a different nator. 
ened and inflamed. Perpetually stimulated by 
alcohol in one or other of it* various forms, the 
inordinate actions of the circulating system be- 
came at length habitual : the process of nutri- 
tion was unable to supply the waste, and the 
powers of life began to fail. Upwards of a 
year before his death, there was an evident de- 
cline in our poet's personal appearance, and 
.Turned unimpaired, he 
wus himself >• -usi, !e that bis constitution was 





! 


omenta of thought be reflect- 


ed with the deepen 


regret on bis fatal progress. 


clearly foreseeing 


the goal towards which be 




. Dg, ■ 


thout the strength of mind 






or even to slacken his course. 


; 




became more irritable and 


gloomy ; 


he fled 


from himself into society 






kind. And in such com. 


I-.,..... th 


I part of the convivial scene, in 


Which » 




ases sensibility snd excites 


benevolen 




hurried over, to reach the 


succecdin 


5 part, o 


er which uncontrolled pas- 



generally presided. He who nxSers the 

ition of inebrialiou, bow shall be escape 

oilier pollution ? But let us refrain from the 

mention of errors over which delicacy and 

humanity draw the veiL 

In the midst of all his wanderings. Bums 
met nothing in his domestic circle but genlle- 
■ ept in the gaawiugs 
of his own reumrse. He acknov. 
HI to the wife of his i 

ceived pardon for his oflences. But as the 
strength of his body decayed, bis resolution 
became feebler, and habit acquired predomina- 
ting strength. 

From Ociober, 1792, to the January follow- 
ing, an accidental complaint confined him to 
the house. A few days after he began to go 
abroad, he dined at a tavern, and returned bonio 
about three o'clock in a very cold morning. Le- 
an attack of rheumatism, which confined him 
about a week. His appetite now began to 
fail : his hand shook, and bis voice faltered on 



weaker and mor 

of the enjovnu 
much dejected ii 

of his real situi 



tain in the larg 



ng bleep. Ti« 

desolation of his family, and his spirits sunk 

It was hoped In some of his friends, that 
if he could livr through the months 
the succeedin linn. 1,1 

ppointed, 'llie genial beams of 
the sun infused no vigour into his languid 
frame; the summer wind blew upon him, lut 
produced no refreshment. Aboai the latter 

snd of June he win adiiscj 10 M into the 
country, and, iiopalieut of medici 

- 
mined fot himself to try th- 

i Ins purpose he took up Ii 
residence ul llrow, in Anuaudale, about I, 
of Hn • 



lady with 






it bappencd thai ■ 



BURNS—LIFE. 

connected" iu friendship by 



SI 



a the immediate neighbourhood. Being in- 
clined of his arrival, she invited him to din- 
rer, and sent her carriage for him to the cottage 



The 



ith his appearance on entering the rooi 



brink of eternity. Hi 

doubtful case which of us should 
e=t, and that I hoped that he we 
itaph. (I was th 



state of health.) Hf 

tomed sensibility. At table he a 
nothing, and he complained of having 



ach. We 1 



arthly p 



a,i;)i-o 



soph;.. 



tentation of philt 

vilh firmness as well as feeling-, 
event unely to happen very soon, andwhic 
re him concern chiefly from leaving his foti 
ildren so young and unprotected, 



pectation of lying in of a fifth. H< 






ig marks of approbation he had received fron 

Iters, and dwelt particularly on his hope: 

of that boy 's future conduct and merit. Hi: 

anxiety for his family seemed to hang heavj 



ing from this subject, he showed great concern 



bis writing would be revived against him t< 
the injury of his future reputation : that let 
ters and verses written with unguarded ant 
improper freedom, and which he earnestl; 

handed about by idle vanity or malevolence 



' He lamented that he had v 



should be sorry to wound ; and many indiffer 

now, with all their imperfections o 

be thrust upon the world. On thia accouii 

his papers into a state of arrangement, as h 

The lady goes on to mention many other topic 

" The conversation," she adds, "was kept u 
with great evenness and animation ou his side 
I had seldom seen his mind greater or mor 
collected. There was frequently a consider 



able degree of vivacity in his sallies, and thev 

not the concern and dejection I could no't dis 
guise, damped the spirit of pleasantry he 

" We parted about sunset on the evening 
of that day (the 5th of July, 1796; ; the next 



nished. On the fourth, the sufferings of this 



Flagrant as hi, foil 



heart. The Gentlemen Volunteers of Don- 
ation was made to render this last service 
solemn and impressive. The Fencible Infan- 
try of Angus-shire, and the regiment of cavalry 



the funeral pi 
of p 



dfroi 



sled, some of them from 

rd.' On the evening ot tl 
remains of Burns were r 
mseto the Town- Hall, ar 



A party of the volunteers, selected to perform 
the railitarv duty in the church-yard, stationed 
them.elves'in the front of the process.an, with 
their arms reversed; the main body of the 

which were placed the hat and sword of their 
friend and fellow-soldier ; the numerous body 

while the Fencible regiments of infantry and 
cavalry lined the streets from the Town-Hall 

yard, a distance "of 'more than half a mile. 

Dead March, in Saul : and three volleys frred 
over his grave, marked the return of Burns to 
his parent earth ! The spectacle was in a high 



* The particulars respecting the illness and 
death of Burns were obligingly furnished 
by Dr Maxwell, the physician who attended 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

nd won 



name of Maxwell, was n 

ite. He has already become an 

if the same grave with his celebrated 



years of age) yet 
mise of prudenc t 



furniture of his house, remained; and obliga- 
tions were found for two hundred pounds 

whom he was united by the ties of blood, and still 
more by those of esteem and affection. When 
it is considered, that his expenses in Edin- 

taking was unsuccessful : that his income from 
the Excise was for some time as low as fifty, 
and never rose to above seventy pounds a-year ; 



nee every offer of friendly assistance 
riuted poems had procured him gre; 

Iter offsprings of his pen might ha\ 

iideuce of sentiment, made a proposi 
that he should furnish them, once t 
with an article for their poetical depar 



* The auihor of SI Buerdon't Well, a pout. ; 

.d of A Tribute tu the He awry of Barns. 



ly refusing all recompense 
to the greater work of .Mr 
Thomson, which the justice and generosity of 
that gentlemen was pressing upon him. 

"■he sense of his poverty, and of the ap- 
ching distress of his infant family, pre««l 
.ily on Burns as he lay on the bed of deatti. 
he alluded to his indigence, at times, with 
ethiog approaching to his wonted gaiety. 
What business, "said he to Dr Maxwell, 

■ pigeon, not worth plucking. Alas! I 
i not leathers enough upon me to carry me 



liar 


, however, to the 


r honour 


continued his 


full e 


molumeuts; and 


Mr Gran 


am of Fintrn, 




»g of his illness 


though 






ts dangerous nat 




an offer of his 








a the means of 






Hal!..-. 


r might be the 


fjitll 


of Burns, ingrati 


ude was t 


ot of the num- 






- 




are found of the 




rtained of Mr 




am's friendship. 


vhich de 








duced u_ 


to suppress ; 










his h 




wards h 


m, though he 


f*l' 


no ^longer the p< 


wer of 


xpressing his 


'u; 


"the death of Bu 


rns, the 


inhabitants of 



subscription for the support of his wife and 
family; and Mr Miller, Mr M'Murdo, Dr 
Maxwell, and Mr Syme, gentlemen of the 



ancholy of the forebodings of Burns 



learlj five f til, and of "a 

unit that ,i]Jicai,al n-inl) a, well .is strength. 



BURNS LIFE. 



is mode of dressing, w 



xpression of de 


ep peu-tration and of calm 




pproaching to melancholy. 






erfect P ease am 




nd almost super 














— Strangers that supposed 




aching an Ayrshire peasant, 


rho could make 


rhymes, and to whom their 




our, found themselves speed- 


j overawed by 


the presence of a man who 



r it was willingly paic 



of benevolence. His dark and haughty coun- 
tenance easily relaxed into a look of good will, 
of pity, or of tenderness ; and, as the various 



est melancholy, or of the most sub- 


and swept him over the precipice 


on. The tones of his voice happily 


rectly in his course. The fatal 


ed with the expression of his fea- 


character lay in the comparative 


with the feelings of his mind. When 


hi- vj.iiion, that superior faculty- 


ndowments are added a rapid and 






dictates of the understanding, alo 


and a happy command of language— 


to be denominated rational^ v. Li, 


as well as brilliancy of expression— 


rent of fortitude, patience, and 


e able to account for the extraordinary 


which, by regulating and combi 


of his conversation— for the sorcery 




is social parties he seemed to exert 


is great in the works of man, in 




science, or in the face of nature. 


ry was more especially apparent. 


tions of a poet are not calculated t 


the governing powers of the mind 


m, and awoke his happiest feelings ; 


he powers of his fancy, as well as 


control, since it gives birth to th 



which in the company of me 
sessed. This influence was 
cal. A Scottish Lady, accu 



This, indeed, is to represent Burns in h 

erhearing ; he was jealous of the pro, 

scorn, jealous to an extreme of the ins 

if wealth, and prone to avenge, even . 

sor, the partiality of fortun 



By nat, 






■5 and his failings had their origin in the 
equally partook of the chills and glows of senti- 



accusation. His understanding was equal to 

opinions were singularly candid and just; but, 
like other men of great and irregular genius, 
the opinions which he delivered in conversation 
were often the offspring of temporary feeling, 
and widely different from the calm decisions" of 
bis judgment. This was not merely true re- 
specting the characters of others, but in regard 

On no subject did he give a more striking 
— if of the strength of his understanding, than 



i the c< 



ned of h 



self. 



imagination. Unfortunately the favourite oc- 
cupations of genius are calculated to increase 
all its peculiarities ; to nourish that lofty pride, 

the restrictions of order ; and, by indulgence, 

when accompanied with the choicest gifts of 
It is observed by one ■ 

and explained the systei 



of a: 



m r !,t, 



in^le'to the' 



ded all his | 

■ oii'rpriiiL; of his fancy i 



•eatly superior to those of men, could possibly 

ve and be happy in this world " If such a 

ling really existed, ' ' continues he, ' ' his misery 

* Smellie— See his Philosophy of Natural 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



objects around him would by no lucuns gi 
it : obliged to feed ou nourishment too 
for his frame ; be must Le Lorn only t 
miserable, and thee, ntinuatiou of his cxis 
■would be ultcily ini),. mL).. i 

dity of objects i-j.d pursuits, the futility of 

culty by cultivated and r. fined minds. In. 

jccts and situation, and no man could Lear t< 
live." 

lion, as well as 'all e ur other powers, art 





he 


speculnt 




of Mr 


Smell 


e are 


be 








e dream 










probably 


le 


unded on sad 


up, 


•11 




nghes 


PP 










nd refin 


ci, 




ccpi.l 






pe 


netrating 






found 




lie 


v.'h 


f the te 
poet. 

ch the i 


jar 


here, t 


f > l T, 




Le 

irk 


:: 




El 


"a'r'ai'.dc 


? Per 


Oei 11 



itofgen 



nfonn (be undemanding • 
. that regul 
I i.ich, like ill other faculties, is 
strength" tied by exercise, and on the superior- 
ity ot which, virtue, happiness, and Lcnour- 
able lame, are wholly dependent. Hence also 
the advantage of regular and constant applica- 
tion, which aids the voluntary power by '.he 
production of babi 

lormed in tbe temi 
'Ihe man who i 
land, mav j ursuc his course with confident 
in almost any ot the various walks of life whie 
choice or accident shall open to b.m ; and pri 
Tided he employs the talents he has cultivate! 
may hope lor such imperfect happii.es>, as 
such limited success, as are reastnally expec 

'Ihe pre-eminence among men, which pn 
cures personal respect, and whieh terminali 
in lasting reputation, is seldom or never ol 



te-eniinent in n 

idge— the knowledge of the natur 
cter of man ? On the other hanei 
f ratiocination is more especially 

aim of oratory, even by the highest 






no,,, wl.eili.r ih- I i. not the iiiunidiml'bge- 
■ litis should be followed in his ., I,.- .,■,, 

timivi), ehielly, in'.lee.l, with a i.l, r. lice- to the 

orntor, but in a way (hat admits of verj gene 

much with those of the 1. it. An mo 1,J. 
trakscumdeEphoror.il,: 3 I. I , , 

in Mo pent prcerrjrfli t 



tit, ul tan. 

fiioi in id </uo total iiutuia, duranter. Ita 

■ iint, mi Hub i//i'eu/i,._ 

lib, ii. '.'. 



excite, to agitate, and to delight, are among 
.,.[ arts of persuasion ; and they 

l> their Celiimat.ci el aii the sm, [a, hies ot the 
heart. These else, vat, ens m^hi le extended 
to other walls of life. He who has the facul- 

might lead to pre-eminence in ether, and, as far 
as lespccts himself, perhaps ill happier destina- 
tions. 'Ihe talents li.ces.sary to the construction 
of an Iliad, under diflerent discipline and appli- 
cation, might have led armies to victory, or 
kuierilcnis to prosperity; toi-l.t have wielded 
the ihuiiilir of eloquence, or d' 
enlarged these 1 - 



•f The reader must not suppose it is contended 

.iruciiun and practice is necessary to excel 
ence in ever] one, and lift is loo short to 
ulmit of one man, bowers* great bis talents, 

ici|llirili» ibis in all of tin 111. It is el, Iv, assert- 

il, ll.al Ih, v i.pi 

.. ugh i .1- 



BURNS. - 

Such talents, are, indeed, rare among (be pro- I 



is of n 






■LIFE, 

them into full e 



haps, not equally well in each. And, after all, 
and judgment will supply, 
e physical qualities 






should have devoted himself to poetry, and th< 
he should have acquired a proficiency in metric; 



Rome produced more instances of single indi- 

active and speculative life, than occur in 

men are subdivided. Many of the greatest 
warriors of antiquity excelled in literature and 
in oratory. That they had the minds of great 

are justly appreciated which are necessary to 

gies of a great body of men, to rouse that enthu- 
siasm which sustains fatigue, hunger, and the 
inclemencies of the elements, and which tri- 
umphs over the fear of death, the most power- 

The authority of Cicero may be appealed to 
in favour of the close connection between the 
poet and the orator. Est enim Jinilimus oratori 



aid by Quinctilian of Hon 



nfTh 


o<^- r 


7 


urn el or 


turn dedit, Lib 


,>....!;,- 


Homer 


s therefore re 


commended 










tance. Of 










language, who are 




~ely inf. 


rior to Homer 


Shakspeare 


andM 














How m 


reh an acquain 


tance with them h 




vailed t 




who is now the 


ride 




nament o°f Vn 


English ba 


, need 






oued, nor nee 


we point ou 


: by na 




l charac 


ter which ma 






th c 


onfidenc 






For the 




ersality 




The iden 


ity, or 




a_-t the 


gr-"at =imilali 


of the talen 




,cu- ; , 


to excellence 


oratory, pa 


mu:.;. 


and 


war, v 


ill be admitte 



■ated, while the sciences remain to be studied 
ind to be extended, and the principles of 






t of 



.lready been 
entioned, to strengthen the self-command ; 

e studies, more efi'ectually perhaps than has 
,en generally understood. 

If these observations be founded in truth, 
they may lead to practical consequences of some 

i consider the possession of poetical talents as 
deluding the possibility of application to the 
:verer branches of study, 






,g the ] 



, jr fr,.,m 



aimn^ 






ife. It has been common for persons conscious 
f snch talents, to look with a sort of disdain 
on other kinds of intellectual excellence, and 

bsolved from these rules of prudence" by 
hich humbler minds are restricted. They are 
io much disposed to abandon themselves to their 

-ithout regular exertion, or settled purpose. 
But though men of genius are generally 



ful, or adventures the most hazardous. Hap- 
pier to him than idleness, were the condition 
of the peasant, earning with incessant labour 

by some, who will be inclined to dispute the 

knowledge. Ou this occasion I may quote the 
following observations of Sir William Jones, 
whose own example will, however, far exceed 
in weight the authority of his precepts. 
«« Abul Ok, had so flourishing, a reputation, 
that several persons of uncommon genius were 
ambitious of learning the art of poetry from so 

lars were Feleki and Rhakani, who were no 
for their Persian compositions. 



:d mathemat: 



;,:il in 



imagination, a lively wit, an easy and copious 



his scantj 




thai i 


f the 


sailor, thougl 


hanging 








Hi bum 










These c 
















nof 












ally by the bio 


graphy o 


the poet 


. Of 




ast descriptio 


of men, 


ew seem 






oved the usua 


portion of happiues 




V..S 


o the lot of hu 


inanity, 


tho,e exc 








pu.-lr;. a* 




'ot'l'i" 


Y.T 


pations, or th 






ii.-a,- 




in the gr 












which al 


the 


uJuh 


es of the min 






id pe 




ntly employe. 


Even tas 


I • nl '' 


Jlid c 


iria 




euce, do 




ble o 














pation as 


■: - 






ful exerci 


e to the f 




s of 


body and mind 




ble Shens 




is lef 




ofhisimj 


rudeuce, 


of his 


indol 


nee, and of h 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

exposed, an 



ttempt of 
nlheaca- 
anquillity 



ju.'ht lr.'m il,,-"_' melancholy of iudo 



e which operate 

magination, and 
riial impressions 
chielly employed 



t There are a great n 
mees which may be c 



under the gloomy appre- 

junds is suspended, by which the 
lilurated, ideas of hope and of hap- 

nature clothed with new beantj I — 

Elysium opens round, 

frenzj tuovs the lighten'd soul, 
ine hopes dispel your fleeting care ; 



May be endured : so may the throbbing head : 
But such a dim delirium, such a dream 
Involves you ; such a dastardly despair 
Unmans your soul, as mada'ning Pentheui 

When, baited round Cithsron's cruel sides, 
He saw two suns and double Thebes ascend. 
Armstrong's Art of Pretervwi 
iv. 1. 163. 

Such are the pleasures and the pains of in- 
sensibility, described by a genuine poet, with a 
experience could have dictated. There°are, 



effects are painfully ii 



. be difficulty of I liquor, 



1, by a power- 
was obliged, 

ant'lv had re! 
.choly. The 



A- ,i.c» in full <lo»es at once; and the 
icbriale retires (o the solitary indulgence of 
- i angulations. Hence the wiue- 
uiik.r appears in a sup. -rior light to the im- 
ib.T of opium, n dixtiiiciiun which 
or. to the/arm, litau to the quality of uia 



BURNS LIFE. 



1 strengthened by hi 



aally p 



self to tl 



ia theii 



moderation are of.en contemned as sellishness 

It is the more necessary for them to guard 
., in the use of wine, because on 

inmnous. ^ 






depen"), °U 



great purposes of utility, patriotism, or of 
honourable ambition, which had occupied the 

or in feeble efforts. 

".:■■ . ,-=■.,..■■,■ ........... ., 



painful task. 


It is, indeed, a duty we owe to 




to allow our admiration of great 




our pity for its unhappy des- 






there are sent 














ansions of the dead; and let 




ralize over the graves of their 




reflect with humility on their 


°u VQ „ e f T0IS ' ' 


or forget how soon they may 






Soon after the death of Burns, the following 
article appeared in the Dumfries Journal, fron 



he privilege o°f criticising" the character t 
vritings of Sir Burns. ' The inspiring inai 



terary capaciti 



legal right of the Bri- 
tisn citizen in a court of justice, that of oeing 
tried unn, by his peers, (1 borrow here an ex- 
pres-ion 1 lia'.e eminently heard Burns himseli 



renting to the public a few of those ideas 
r the scene of his happy qualities and of 



t 1 consider 
trivial one': no person can be more penel 

by the muses than myself; and much cert 
is due to the merit of a self-taught bard 

tion, and the intercourse of minds cong 
to his own, till that period of life, > 
his native tire had alreadv blazed forth i 
■plicity ant 






, 6"'« «• genuine , 
eloquence of senttmt 



e found 






I " The Poetic genius of my country fouud 
le, as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha — 
t the Ploua-h; and threw her inspiring mantle 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 
r failed to delight and seem the temper ol 



'rougT'eLrLe'of ag 
.Her cultivation of the 



self. The rapid lightnings of 1 
aether they darted the fiery glanc 



ed the ear with the melody c 
, the perspicuity of nervou 
le ardent sallies of enthusiast. 



a almost at a loss whether to 
s foible; for though uaturt 



' which Sterne has des. 
ifrequ'en'tly'di^cteda 
»rers°o e ns e ha 0r ened^ 



dread of injuring u, ,,l r et, the sage of Zuri 
Cor being rather dehcient in it. He paid the 



professed 

.[,-. ieil 1. 
t this qui 



had si 



tre incapable of appre- 



the celebrated Dr Johnson 
a good hater,' — a tempera- 
ularly adapted him to cher- 
in favour of our bard, who 
uort even of the surly Doe- 

tmn'eT; but the fervour of 

rtunately tempered by their 



I am inclined to believ 
O. of feeling, tha 



nat..d ]• 






-ed him prompt 
t nis sensations of pique, 
lad discovered the traces 

it which preceded ti 



- 






, of cabin 

s errors, and his avoiral was a reparatio, 
native JiarU never forsaking him a m 

enhanced tenfold towards a generous mini 

ticable to the efforts of superc'iliousne 
would have depressed it into humilil 

1 suggestions that might have led him in 
nazes el livpocrisy. 

It has been observed, that he was far fro 
se to the incense of flattery, and could r 



an 


honest 




from the wa 


of 






It has been 




ted, by 


lIlOs 






detract 




, tho..-h 111 




oily to 




■o that nalh 


th 


power 

-k,M ; . t 


Of I 











utipalby, the object of culhu.-i- of what in realitj required no foil.' 'IheCol- 
astic attachment, or ol de-id, d enmity ; for he lei \ s.nurd.ij -\i_hl, l.o.i o 'Shunter, mid the 
possessed none of that negative insipidity of .Mountain Daisy, besides a number of Inter 
character, whose love might be regard, -d wiili production!,, where the maturity of his genius 
indifference, or whoso resentment could he w ill be readily traced, and which will be given 
considered with contempt, la this it should i tothe public as soon u ibis irunds have collected 



BURNS. -LIFE. 



and arranged them, speak :uffl h-utlv Tor them- 
selves i and had they fallen from a hand mole 
dignified in the ranks of society than that of a 
peasant, they had perhaps bestowed as unusual 
' ' mbler shade of 



1 froi 



sprung. 



'" To the obscure scene of Barns 's educatioi 
and to the laborious, though honourable st 
tion of rural industry, in which his parenta: 
enrolled him. almost every inhabitant in ti 
south of Scotland can give testimony. B 
only surviving brother, Gilbert Burns, nc 
guides the ploughshare of his forefathers 






tall fan 



V .Or 



near Wan 



d of nine yea 

5 already pro' 
ther's talents; 



conversation, unless where the dead language* 
and their writers were the subjects ut <:. ; cu,- 
siou. When I have pressed him to tell me 



mory had so scon enabled him to «^ u»« 
he used only to reply with a smile, 
already knew all the Latin he desired tt 

thoroughly versed in ; but I really •"' 



is happy m 



" The 



t Mr 



ided little, if any, £ 
■ns had uniforn 



acknowledged for the fest x 
table, and towards the fairer and sor 

and moral, have been directed ; and to these, 
it must be confessed, he showed himself no 
stoic His poetical pieces blend with alternate 



irippim 



tend J e°r"and"im S 



:riplio 






And where is the 
irsuade us so far to 



eel-i.rai 



creon sung beneath his vine ? 

'* I will not, however, undertake to be the 
apologist of the irregularities, even of a man 
of genius, though I believe it is « 
derstood that genius neser was tree of irregu- 
larities, as that their absolution maj in a great 
measure be justly claimed, since it is certain 



ously glaring, than where they are the attend- 
ants of mere mediocrity : it is only on the gem 
'ust ; the pebble 



e disturbed t< 

turns of geniu 
e wild efferve: 



The 



often yield 
of desires, 

own' CrU No'°wond , e L r''th < en' if "virtue herself be 
sometimes lost in the blaze of kindling anima- 
tion, or that the calm monitions of reason were 
not found sufficient to fetter an imagination, 
which scorned the narrow limits and relictions 
that would chain it to the level of ordinary 
minds. The child of nature, the child of sen- 
sibility, unbroke to the refrigerative precepts of 
philosophy, untaught always to vanquish the 



lology i 






, than all the 



saw thy pulse's maddening plav 
'"ild send thee Pleasure's deviou: 
isled by Fancy's meteor ray, 



rressed far beyond the 
to myself, on first 
lese sketches, which 
st I have been led to 
mind and 
or moral, 
holly fulfilled, if in 



eithei 



e been 






hTlSrVea 



proudly re 






jither was formed, I find private 

animosities are not yet subsided, and envy has 
not yet done her part. I still trust that honest 
fame will be affixed to Burns 's reputation, 
which he will be found to have merited by the 
candid of his countrymen ; and where a kin- 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



' Where thi nope repose — 

The bosom tf his father, aud his Cod.* 

Gray's Elegy. 



count of the life and personal 






subjects of his poems, though some 



1 is ii, i:i. d, lo an Englisl 
>uth. The greater [.art 
e written in the dialect 
is obscure, if not uninteli 



urn, which is difficultly reconciled with our 
stablished notions of poetical excellence. 
As the reader, however, becomes better ac- 
nainted with the poet, the effects of his pecu- 



uih. 


His humour, though wild 


ed. 


s irresistibly 




'\" 




ecfe bjtheu.tr. 

ness, with whic 




r so happily 


unites. Nor is 1 


nt i 


bi» power. 


The reader, as b 



perkruih! 


what he attempts 


with little appa- 






; and impressing 


ll the offspring of 


hisf 


ncy the stamp of his vt 


dmUuuting. The 






pable of forming 


1 lh j «ec?rc i u m n a 't e an f 














of uncommon gen 


us, C 'a e nd r is U willi^ 






ate more minutely 




clail 




iginality. This 1 


ist point we shall 












at 1 


urns bad not the 


advantages of a 


elass 


cal ,: 


.location, or of an> 


degree of acquail;- 






the Creek or Rom 




ongi 


lal c 


ess, has appeared 


iu the history of 




fe. 




, some knowledge 


of lb 


Fit 




I does not appear 








ersant in French 








ideuce of his hav- 












e. Willi the English 


classics he became 


well 




intediu the cours 


e of his life, and 








ce are observable 


in hi 








sMe 


el hi 


poetry were formed very early, and 


the 
pan 


.ode 


which he follow 


d, in as far as he 
is to be sought for 






ts of the poets w h 




the Scotti 


h dialect— iu the 










fhe-V, 


;;';• 


of Scotland. Son 




parti 




examination of the poetry of Burns. 




tudies of the editor in 


this dirtclion aie 


would" l'a 


e been imprudent 


VorTim (o June 






this subject at all 


but for the kind- 


ness 


f .Mr 


Ramsay of Ochte 


tyre, whose assis- 



plan... I, that in the thirteenth ceiiiiiiv, ibe 
language of the two British natici.s, if nl all 
d, Hi-rent, differed only in dialect, the Caelic in 
the one, like the Welch and Armoric in the 

other, being conliticd to the niounlainous dis- 
tricts.* The English under the Edwards, and 



BURVS LIFE. * 



Gl 



the Scots under Wallace and Brace, spoke thi 

thi history ascends to a period nearly 
as remote as in England. Barbour and Blinc 
Harry, James the First, Dunbar, Eon-las, am 
LincUa-, , who lived in the fourteenth, bfteemh, 
and Sixteenth centuries, were coenal with tli. 
father? of poetry in England ; and in th. 

EefSI !ach h d ° 1 pei!d, d 7ei 



At the death of James the Fifth, in 1542, 
the la.uruage of Scotland v. as in a flourishing 



throne. It may easily be 



tongue, as was done by the rev 
in Italy, he would have left c 
that language which might hav, 



James, overthrew all reasonable . x;„ cf..ti„u i 
this kind. That monarch, seated on the Eng 



ty, though he himself nev 



They studied the language of Englai 
composed in it with precision and el 
They were however the last of their c 



for a period of eighty years. 

To what causes are we to attribute this ex- 
treme depression among a people compaiatively 
learned, enterprising, and in-ei.i -us . Shall 
-we impute it to the t\natiei,m of the cove- 

.',- restoration to the throne ? Doubt- 
less these causes operated, but they seem un- 
equal to account for the effect. In England, 
similar distractions and oppressions took place, 
yet poetry flourished there in a remarkable 



,ntry- 



egree. During this period, Cowley, am 
\ aller, and Dryden sung, and Milton raisec 
is strain of unparalleled grandeur. To th( 

'jnting for the torpor of ScoltisI 



—the 



.■not gen 



the pure English idiom. 



Theci 



t the Scottish language l 



imitated their beauties, in the same manner 
as they studied the classics of Greece and 
Home. They,had admirable models of com- 
position lately presented to them by the 

larly in the periodical papers published by 
Steele, Addison, and their associated friends, 
which circulated widely through Scotland, and 
diffused every where a taste for purity of style 
and sentiment, and for critical disquisition. 
At length, the Scottish writers succeeded in 
English composition, and a union was formed 
of the literary talents, as well as of the legisla- 
tures of the two nations. On this occasion 
the poets took the lead. While Henry Home, t 
Dr Wallace, and their learned associates, 
were only lay-in- in their intellectual stores, 
- J -idyingto ■ 



i.-h in., 



lallet, a 






.e English tl 



I the accession of Jan.e 
Immediately betnr,- tl, 



gether, made the elements of "knowledge of 



on the rural 
have not hith, 
though less s 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



music, which being b. 






r ..p. in ihe wilds of Ireland and 
in Ih' mountains oi Scotland and Wales. 
The Irish, the Scottish, and the u 

J from each other, bui the difference 
ma; be. considered a. in dialect only, and pro- 
bably produced by Ibe influence of lime, like 
tbe different dialect! of tbeir common language. 
If this conjecture be true, the Scottish music 
must be more immediately of a Highland 
origin, and the Lowland tune*, though uow of 
a character somewhat annuel, must hate de- 
scended from tbe mountains in remote ages. 



antl] , 



untj, 



and ballads composed in their nati 

Ls of these compositions were such 
ulcresled the simple inhabitants, and 
rrrtninn of lime varied probably as ll 
ion of society varied. During tbe separ 
id tbe hostility of the two nations, the 
aud ballads, as far as our imperfect a 
ts enable us to iodge, were chiefly wa 
i of Cheviot, and ll 



Baltic of Harlaic. 
tranquillity took pi 



i th< 



want of real evidence respecting tbe history of 

our songs," sa>s Rim, ay of Ochtertyre. ■• re- 
course may be had to conjecture. Oue would 
be disposed to think, that the most beautilul 
of tbe Scottish tuues were cljlhed with new 
words after the union of tbe crowns. The in- 
habitants of the borders, who hod formerly 






I hull 



me sparks of that spirit of chivalry 
:h they are celebrated by Krois,a.-t, 

ry towards the fair sex. Tb< 

liliteratcd, and thii 
i rural life. In thi. 
and tranquillity of 






the Legi.l. 




















babl, on Ih 


Hanks of the I'ki 



purralll which chequer pmaie life wei 
v/h.ch bad forn.eily bad a d.tidrd „<i, 



of the soul. To pourlray in I 
delicate colour*, though with a baaty i.aoJ. 
ihe hopes and fears thai agitate tbe breail of 
the love-sick twain, or forlorn maiden, afford 
ample scope to tbe rural poet. Love-songs, of 

ashamed, might be composed by an uneducated 
ru.tic wiih a slight tincture of letter, ; or if in 
these songs the character of the rustic be some- 
times assumed, the truth of character, and the 
language of nature, are preserved. W.ih uo- 
aflecied simplicity and tenderness, topics are 
urged, most likely to soften Ibe heart of a cruel 

Eien in such as are of a melancholy cast, a ray 
of bope break, through, and dispels the deep 
- I gloom ■ 



sweetest of ihe Highland Israel 


or vocal airs. 


Nor are these songs all plaiut 


is: mans of 


tbem are lively and humorous, and some appear 








manner, of an 


energetic and sequestered people 


n iheir ho jr. 


of ui.rtb and festmty, though iu 








mure f.-slidiou, pointer, wou.J ha 
•• As tho,e rural poets song fo 


e thrown into 


r amusement. 


not fcr gain, their effusions seidc 




love-song, or a ballad of satir 




which, like ihe words of tbe el 




were seldom committed to writ 


ng, but trea- 


neighbours. Neither known t 


r friends and 


o the learned 


nor patronized by the great, tbes 


. rustic bards 



have been forgotten. * When proper models 
for pastoral songs were produced, there would 



isib lily uf heart were m 



I of imagination or pomp of 
changes have certainly taken 



h song-writing, though w 



■d during tbe greater part of the seventeen: 

i sVoUiah nation, through ■ 

>, was deeply sguated by ihe civ ■! war 



* In the Pepv. collection, th 
.1 the list cent 

t Srtrac. tf a°"u" "rV.i"l 
(X-Aferit/r* lo (. 

II . VOi, ,. a c. 






of Mr Kam.ay, under 



.-..'.. 



nter. into tbi. 






of church government, that the peasantry of , p 
the Lowlands enjoyed comparative repose ; and ' p 
it is since that period that a ereat number of ; si 
the most admired Scottish son;s have been h 
bich they are j h 
ter antiquity. | n 
)se, that the | t] 
ecuritv derived from the Revolu- | ii 
tie Union, produced a favourable b 
be rustic poetrv of Scotland ; and g 
ily be doubted.'that the institution sc 
lools in lollij, bv which a certain p 



LIFE. 

I freedom with the sonf 
j truth cannot, however, 1 



Is adapted verses worthy of the 
iccompanied, worthy indeed of 
. These verses were perfectly 
.very rustic, yet justly admired 



Cum 



■rland 



It Theo ' 



ired Allan Ramsav. the 
He was born on the 
and 



high mountains that divide Clyd. 
Annandale, in a small hamlet by the banks of 

Clyde. The ruins of this hamlet are still 

the son of a peasant, °and probably received 
such instruction as his parish-school bestowed, 
and the poverty of his parents admitted. -f 
Ramsay made his appearance in Edinburgh, 



humble cha 




■ 


he was then 


fourteen or 


fifteen years of ag 


• ' h 


decrees he 
silion, and 


..■quired n"t 


ce for his social 




his tal.u.t 


or the composit 


.'not' 






diom : and, cha 




his profess 


on for tha 


t of a bookselle 




became int 


nate with many < 




well as of 




fashionable char 




of his time 


$ Having 


published a volu 


me of 


poems of hi 




■ rally 


received, fa 




o make a collect 


on or 


ancient Sco 




under the title 


of the 


Ec.r- Great, and was 


afterwards enco 


rair.d 






a collection of S 




songs.^ " 


From wha 


sources he pr 






s Ramsay of Ochtertyre, " w 




from' trad" 




uscript, is unc 




As in the 


Ei-cr-G'-c-. 






attempts I 


) improve 


n the originals 


of his 


ancient po 


ms, he pro 


ably used still e 


reater 


* See C 


impbeU's H 


story of Poetry i 


Scot- 


a \ The fa 


ther of Mr Ramsay was, it i 


said, 




tl-mii..-, uf the Earl of 






Is. The workn 








are of a very si 




character 




n general. The 




only sis ho 


urs of laboL 






time for re 


iding. Thev 


have a common 


ibrary 



ani his club of smell wits, who, about 1719' 

Young, the author of the Night T;-jr(-, 
prefixed a copy of verses. ' ' Extract of a h Her 
from Mr Ramsay of Ochtertyre to Ike Editoi 



spoken by i 



e peasant, spoke a t 
; s true, the English 
e by this time read 



liddleof the r 
'torn the peer 

the standards for polite composition. But, as 

the learned, the gay, and the fair, continued 
to speak their native dialect, and that with an 

old enough to have conversed with Mr Spinal", 
of Leuehat, a scholar, and a man of fashion, 



it, as the language of 
om that of Thames Street. Had 
court and parliament of our own. 
' tile two >i = ter kingdoms would 
differed like (he Castilian and 
but each would have its own 
in a single branch, but in the 
.f literature. 
associated with the men of wit 



Sir t_.il: ert Elliot, the first of our lawyers who 
both spoke and wrote English e.egantly, com- 
posed, in the character of a love-sick swain, a 
beautiful song, beginning, My sheep 1 neglected, 

tress, Miss Forbes, with Ronafd Crawford. 



t twelve years afterwards, the s 



and sup- 
den. In 



§ Beginning, What beauties does Flora dis- 

g, I luive heard a lilting at :•;•".- 
■es-milkine. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



n words to lie hum tune, tcginniu, 
mi Ihc i»»/i«; vfjitrlunc Uguitiup, v 
u long before by Mrs Cockburn, a woi 



of literati of the present . 

", though* wl 

Much did 

a these ii 






schools of Edinburgh and Dundee, and s 
ri at the I oiier.itics of Edinburgh a 
Ircw 's. It appears that he was at on 
lined for the Scottish Church ; but 

ntion, and at Edinburgh entered the 

nates a separate and higher 






igher order of So 






i he was led, impaired I 



n bi*88dc* Mth 



" the singing of songs was the great di " 
of the higher and middle order of the p. 



Sesm 



tion. They ha 


l ib,. 




l. !.... I lb, 


tliler Scottish [in. c, ; di, 


> " ■ r 




the uid ol the List Englisl 
















strangers to the book ol in 






o the book 


el God." 








In. in ibis general view 




apparent that 


Allan Ramsay d 




as 




n • •••■in.- the ii viver ol the run 


l"' 




country. His collection 
















Ins collection 








|. mills, the principal ol 








.S/lr/l/uTl/, bill.- I.i . u 1.1 . 
























1 






ml llllll.l 


Harry. Burnt was well i 




villi allot 


Hi.-..-. He bad ilao before him 




|.,.,,„s of 


Fergiuaon iii the Bcotll ib 


•ii iii-et, « 


iich base 


1 • in |.i. ..In.-. .1 in ,.iir ..mi 






ol « In.ii 


il win be ni 1 1 







I 111 il polViT to |,|o. in.- Inn 



ached by the sympathy originating 
;euius, and in the forebodings of 
une, Burns regarded J 
il and an affectionate admiration. 
it lie erected a monument, as has 
mentioned ; and his poems he ha.=, 
islances, made the subjects of his 

i account of the Scottish poems 

mil 'Li,, liiey are chiefly humor- 



writers who have excelled in humour. Jlut 
this observation is true only wheu applied to 
those who have continued to reside m their own 



posit,, 



Ihl insiivi- 
u pure English; and in these circum- 
' tsofaneosy explanation. 'Ihe 



Scottish poets, who h; 

of Scotland, have Lien at nil limes remarkable 

no. ,,l some of Hi. in have excelled. It would 

be easy to show, that the dialect of Scotland 

Inning become |.ro\ in,-..... 

id to the in. .i. ;.. 11 we 

may believe tli.il ill. poem of IVirisds Alii i;/' 

/Ai (i„i,i w.is written ly Jamas U I 



iotwiihstandini 

uljii-i bj .Vr i.Ml.r. Ihe 1 ...lor acknow- 
nc on this 

point. Sir Huviil Hairy tuple II,. 1 

opinion thai il was written l\ Ins successor 

nines at- 
Hul on tin- 

licviupelinl 



BURNS — LIFE. 



Scotland, this accomplished monarch, who 
had r-ceived an English education under the 
direction of Henry the Fourth, and who bore 



model ( 






d been formed. Christii A.,;: 
ne was reprinted by Ramsay, 
nodernized in the orthography, 

the poem of King James is usually printed in 
Ramsay's works. The royal bard describes, 
in the first canto, a rustic dance, and after- 

the humours of a country wedding. Though 



a, 




lent uniform 


V ; 


a s 


ti-.k 


a g P 


of 


the'i'de 


tity of char. 






the 


5cv 


1" 


gantry c 


t the two p 








int f 




h,.t,.er 


hree hundred 






It U 


an i 




able dis 






ady 






th 




*ter and man 










bellished, h 


ave been foun 








ptii. 








- 




esof 


p c 
















.lie ,,a t ; 




L 






;cli 






jriginal poetry, 


should 




i.-' 


ved the n 
n the m 


odel, followed 


tnr 


hei 


rus 


lcbai 



fcfis Kirk 
of the Grene, written by Ramsay, though ob- 

happiest of his productions. Kis chief excel- 



land, their lives, and opinions. The subject 

equal to the subject ; and he has shown that it 
may be happily adapted to pastoral poetry. 
In his Gentle Sliepherd, the characters are de- 

finely pourlrayed, and the heart is pleasingly 
there is an air of reality which the most care- 



tious, may rank with the happiest productions 
of Prior or La Fontaine. But when he at- 
tempts subjects from higher life, and aims al 
pure English composition, he is feeble and un- 
interesting, and seldom even reaches mediocri- 



genius was not o. the highest order; i 
his learning, which was considerable, i 

dels, though superior to the English pi 



them, are however faithful to nature, and 
often distinguished by a very happy vein of 
humour. His poems emit:. a Tht Daft J} -, 
1'lie King's Birth-day in Edinburgh, Leith 
Races, and The Halk-u. Fair, will justify this 

he imitated t ' ' ' A*! ' 1 '' ."'Grene^as 
Ramsay had done before him. His Address to 
the Tron-kirk Bell is an exquisite piece of hu- 
mour, which Burns has scarcely excelled. In 



is of a 



tthisp 



life been prolonged 
:esoffortuue, hew 
much higher repu 



: especially Burns, 
cter and manners 

o poetry, as in th 
e author of Chi 

imour of Burns is i 



early.youTh. 


happier cir- 


robably have 


He might 




bed Sicilian 


*, The Far- 




•st of all his 



mse.:''i. 



richer vein than 

jrmsns, he had "frequently 
ther with a view to kindle at 



—A superiority of this kind is essential to 
y species of poetical excellence. In one of 

if society, by showing that their superiors 

i of a dialogue betweeu two dogs. He in- 
iiees this dialogue by an account of the 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

ir, I Ihe humour of Barm a 



High-bred though be is, be is 
'• At kirk or market, mill or e 



Ills breast 
Weelclad 

2« 

Never wer 



year: 

'* That merry day the year begin9. 
They bar the d..or on fro 
The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, 
And »l...!s o heari-inspiriug steam; 



"and Panthr of Pr.id. 



ears la to simple a 

' '— " subjects of 

• « pity ; 



quently impel, him to in 

humour, emotiom of tenderness 

and, where occasion adroit., ha i 

• carried on to exert the higher powers of imagi- 
nation. In such instances he leave* the society 
and of Fergusson. and associate. 

, himself with the masters of English poetry. 
whose language he frcquei.t 

I Of the union of tenderness and humour, ex- 
amples may be found in Th- Death and Dying 

i Words of poor SJailie, In The auld Farm-r'. 
Nao-Ytar't Morning Salutation to kit Mare 
Haggle, and in many of his other poems. 1 he 
praise of whisky is a favourite subject with 
It. .»».., T\. ,l.:_ u- J-J:— •— v 









r as dogs, and th 
conversation, heightens the 
ens the impression of the po 
in this poem the chief exec 
eidcred as humour, yet gr 
played in its coiiipn.- 



happiest pt 
i.)l iuii and the deepest insight into Ihe 
heart.* It is seldom, however, that 



ibla to portray the character of lug h-lile with 









•' Nae mercy, then, for aim or steel ; 
The brawoie, bainie, ploughman cbiel. 
Brings hard awn-hip, wi' sturdy wheel 

The strong fore hammer, 
Till block an 1 studdie ring and reel. 



The description of the Scotchman is 

ut bring a Scotsman frae his bill, 
i in his cheek a Highland gill, i 
, such is royal George's will, 

An" there's the foe; 
las nae thought but how to kill 



» nobility as well aa gentry are to bo seen, 

it was concluded lh.it the race-ground had been 
the Held of Ins observation. This was saga- 
enough ; but it did not require such in. 



; . bj siluati 
i ( V[ unJ Prayer ti 

Mr Scotch Repmnlattw in Parliament. 



BURNS LIFE. 



Tho' -whiles je moistifj your leather, 
Till where you sit, on craps o' heather, 

Freedom and Whisky gang thegither, 



powers of imagination, instants' may be found 
in the poem entitled Death and Dr Bornbook, 

the De'il, one of the happiest of his produc- 
tions. After reproaching this terrible being 
with all his "doings" and misdeeds, in the 

of Scottish superstitions, and rises at times into 
a high strain of poetry; ' 



O wad ye tak a thought ai 



Humour and tenderness are here so happily 
intermixed, that it is impossible to say which 

Fergusson wrote a dialogue between the 
Causeway and the Plainstones * of Edinburgh. 
This probably suggested to Burns his dialogue 
between the Old" and New Bridge over the 
river Ayr. The nature of such subjects requires 
that they shall be treated humorously, and 
Fergusson has attempted nothing beyond this. 
Though the Causeway and the Plainstones talk 
together, no attempt is made to personify the 
speakers. A " cadie"f heard the couversa- 
tion and reported it to the poet. 

In the dialogue between the Brigs of Ayr, 
Burns himself is the auditor, and the time and 
occasion on which it occurred is related with 
great circumstantiality. The poet, "pressed 
by care," or " inspired by whim," .had left 
his bed in the town of Ayr, and wandered out 

night, to the mouth of the river, where the 
stillness was interrupted only by the rush- 
ing sound of the influx of the tide. It was 
after midnight. The Dungeon-clock i had 
struck two, and the sound had been repeated 
by Wallace-Tower. $ All else was hushed. 
The moon shone brightly, and 



" clanging sugh" of wings moving through 
reared, the one on "the Old, the other on the 

other he rehearses. These genii enter into a 
which they preside, and afterwards, as is 



usual between the old and young, compare 
modern characters and manners with those of 
past times. They differ, as mav beexpecttd, 
and taunt and scold each other in broad 
Scotch. This conversation, which is cer- 
inly humorous, may be considered as the 



" all before their sight 

fairy train appear 'd in order bright ; 
Ado w n the glittering stream they featly danced; 



They footed o'er the wafry glass so neat, 
The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet ; 
e arts of minstrelsy among them rung, ) 



" The Genius of the Stream in front appears, 

His manly leg with garter tangle bound," 

Next follow a number of other allegorical 
beings, among whom are the four seasons, 
Rural Joy, Plenty, Hospitality, and Courage. 



nstrument of Death ; 

our Sprites forgat their kind- 



Tins poem, irregular and imperfect as it is, 
displays various and powerful talents, and 
ui.ry i-rie to illustrate the genius of Burns. In 

being carried beyond his original purpose by 



lern manners in the town of Ayr. Such a 
ogue could only be supposed to pass in the 
ness of night ; and this led our poet into a 
:ription of a midnight scene, which excited 



a fairy dance of a 

nuer me oearas of the moon, by wuicn me 

rath of the Genii of the Brigs of Ayr is ap- 

In congruous as the different parts of this 
oem are, it is not an incongruity that dis- 
eases ; and we have only to regret that the 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

e DOWI r . of ■ >u[>.-- 



pendeoea of sentiment, 
mid generosity ol" heart, ll is to 
ili.il in his IlJty Fair, ond in loo 

humour drgenerate* into personal 
►alire, and is uol ■ uflici.-ntl> fjjrcled in other 
en* of Burn* is free 
from nay objection of this sort 

lion of manners, but tie it records the spells 
and charms used on thi 
\al, DOW, eren in Scotland.fallinginlo nr; 
but which was once hLmthiI over ike pi 
part of Britain and Inland.* These charm* 
are supposed lu afford an insight into futurity, 
ri ._■■■, llje DM 

. i, male, in performing 

- occasion to go out by moonlight ti 
dip bet shift-sleeve into a stream 
iroriis Ihe South. It was not necessary fe: 
Burns to give a description of this stream. Bu 
it was the chara.t-r of bis anient mind to pou 
forth not merely what the occasion required 
but -what it admitted; and the temptation ti 



•• Whjli a nv;rr a linn the burnie plajs 
As through the glen ii wimplet : 

A\ h>l-s round the rock) scaur it stray* 
VVbyles in a wielit dimplet; 

••r'd lo the niehtlv rajs, 



o understand the Scottish diali 
i wh ch the reo i 



,,..., J 


' 


e»t proof, ■• wel 


a. the 


m * 




tr.umph. 


of original genius 


. 












taken br 


Mr HaekaBsw. 




B7tk 


jmber of the Lounftr, u a poem 








xcellence. 


Theopei lag, 








r.be* hi* 


wn aula of ...; 






the l 






lab 




edaj. 








pro- 


• els, is Irul) m 


"T^u. 


'iVdo 




use, is 


an exquis 


te painting : 







" There, lanelj. br ike ingle-ckeek, 
1 sat and eyed ihe spewing reck, 
'Ibal lill'il'wi' hoast-pro>oking sme»k 
ThatanM 

An' heard lb. ; 

ALoui Ik 



icile to our in 






succeed*. Coila 



id dress, unlike those of other spir- 
1 beings, are distinctly portrajed. To the 
iting on her mantle, on which is depicted 
most striking seenerj, as well as the most 
• is, of his native country, 
e exceptions may be made. The mantle of 
la, like Ihe cup of Thyrsi*,} and ihe shield 
■ ith bgures, 
some of the objects icprescnted upon it are 
crly admissible, according to the principle* 
reign. The generous temperament of Burns 

number of figures origi- 
e might inch] 



nail, inlrodi 
to w'hich he 



luced, ill, I 



i,l, ,1 :. 



own nature and occupations, par- 

licularly her supem. tendance if bis iufanl gen- 
ius, and in w Inch she reconciles him lo the cbar- 

of poetry, ranking in all respects, excepting the 
h ib. higher pruduc- 
ncludii.g 



' n that ..f a humorous kind, und. 


i, that already quoted. 


- 




i H to decide whether n • :■ 


p. im, troin the point at which he sets out : — 




•Mouse whute m if iru. turned up with the plough. 


'• And trior fAou (Ait— *he solemn said. 


und the kottj) round my head ; 


ib.s us it mni , ihe poetn is one ,.t t 

mil most In',, I,. ,1 of In- piodiieliniis. ll we 


Did rustling play ; 
And, like ii passim; thou^ln, she lUd 


Mini,- ,,t the •• bickering Irutlli- 1 ' of Ibis little 




In light away." 


i (,ii is admirable: the 






In rufous poem* Burn* ba* exhibit*)! Ib* 




: mind under the deep 1 










H ii-itA Mr 




ploitrh, ll u |o. in ol lb 




o.l. nor in ( I ol . , 


l.urns'o'ilen 




. wk.ck are 


■ 1 1 1 . 




| H 




,.,(U». 



BURNS LIFE. 



G9 



congenial to the temperament of sensibility 

raXaTins'ta'-ice of this kind, and The Wit 

■ Night is of the same description. Th 

■ t is highly character ,: '' 



of the condition 

on bright in* S "The poe! 
himself as lying in bed and list, 
howling. In this situation, he nat 
his thoughts to the ourie * Catt 



of Burns. 



U ' What comes o' thee? 



vith clouds," casts her dreary light 01 
pindow, thoughts of a darker and more 
ncholy nature crowd upon him. In thii 



man, and hnds the former light in the bal- 

" See stern Oppression's iron grip, 
Sending, like blood-hounds from' the slip, 

He pursues this train of reflection through a 
variety of particulars, in the course of which 
he introduces the following animated apos- 
trophe : 

•« O je ! who, sunk in beds of down, ■ 

1V1 "not a want but rthat you. selves create, 
Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, 
Whom friends and fortune quite disown ! 
Ill-satistied keen .Nature's claufrous call, 



ly fright is perhaps entitled to 

The Farmer's Ingle of Ker- 

ly suggested the planof ^this 



, out-lying. Ourie Cattle, Catt 

iliou = ;d alf winter. 



bited under circumstances highly grateful to 

■ ing the return of evening. The 

his comfortable hre-side. The reception 
hich he and his men-servants receive from 
le careful house-wife, is pleasingly di 



the rural events of the day 

'Bout kirk and market eke 
How Jock woo'd Jemii 

iVnd there how JUarfon. foi 
Upon the. 



begin t< 



bid 



" Guide 



' our Mess John t 



duced : 



the rock, and the spindle plays on her " russet 

witches and ghosts. The poet exclaims, 

" O inock na this, my friends ! but rather 



Wi' 



aye cradled when the grave is 



the fatigues of the day, stretches himself at 
length on the settle, a sort of rustic couch, 
which extends on one side of the lire, and the 






meet him, and clambering round his 

with the neighbouring farmers, dutifull 
positing their little gains with their pa 
and receiving their father's blessing an 

Jenny, their eldest daughter, " w 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



scntation of these 


humble 








thc worship of tiw 








which the rural muse ha 








ably adapted to th 




■lion. Like all men 




t thi i 


mperament of devo- 








this instance will 




•ibilitj of In. bean. 


nod the ferraui 


t bis 


maginatioti.* TU 


Colter '« Saturdcy 


N,,AMs 






ionej, i 


nd rises at length into 






ublimity. which mc- 


dern poetry has 




lassed. The noble 


sentiments of patriotism 




eludes, correspond 


with ibt n^i of the poem. 


In no age or ccun 




the pastoral muses 


breathed such • lei 










b is indeed a pastoral 












on other subject, of 


. 






tonuofthe Scuiti 




■ try would have am. 


ply supplied. Su 






ed by the degree o 


plcasu 




it sinks deeply into 


the heart, and is calculated, 



far beyond any other burnt 



llhaU'mioe. 



>y Hard ! thy generous flame 
iven to raise thy country's fame, 

is thy charming numbers came, 

'Ihy matchless lax ; 



"•With'all'thy'o 



* The reader will recollect that the Cotter 

t A great number of manuscript poems w« 

s.-d to him 1)} admirers if Ins genius, from 
different parts ofBritair, as well as from Ire 
land and America. Among these was a poeti- 
cal epistle from jMr Telford of Shrew slur), ol 
superior merit. It was wiilten in the Dialect 
ol Scotland (of which country -Mr Telford is a 

oil! pott himself. Its object is to 



Pursue, Bt 

'I bet beat me northward man 



i 

I hi ar the river's rusbini 
It.n 

No distant - 



How with religious awe impress 'd, 

They open lay the guiltiest 

And youth oud age n ith fears di-tress'd. 

All due | 
The syrulols of eternal rest 

Devout to share. } 

How down ill lang withdrawing hill, 
Suceessne crowds the tailors till, 
\S bile pure religious COI . 

Beguiles the way, 
And gives a cast to voutbful will, 

To suit the day. 

How placed along the sacred board, 
Their hoary pastor's looks adored. 
His voice with peace ami I 

Sent from above; 
And faith, and hope, and 

Alld bou'udlcss love. 

O'er this, with warm seraphic glow. 
Celestial beings, pleased, bow. 
And, whisperM, hear the holy tow, 

MM tears: 



il solemn scene !§ 



Approaching slow, 
ruing weeds, thv 



iproaehing slow, 



Some much-respected t 

I l!> lulus lo ; i 

With b.uvy hearts thej i i 

Along ihe path ; 

, A beautiful little monl whi.h ,l 

■ 



BURNS.— LIFE. 



The light of death. 



And when they pass th 

Auii more arouud the i 

W 

The kirk-yard trees ar< 



While o'er them wintry tempests rave, 
In the cold wind their grey locks waxe. 

Their brother's body 'mongst the lave 
Of parent clay. 

Expressive looks from each declare 
The griefs within, their bosoms bear, 
One holy bow devout they share, 

Then home return, 
And think o'er all the virtues fair 



; aueht on earth so lovely known, 
n Sabbath morn, and far alone, 
is guileless soul all naked shown 



And bless 'd abode. 
it a heartfelt joy, 



The parish-school, its curious site, 

Demand thy care ; 

Nor pass the ploughman's school at n 

Without a share. 

Nor vet the tentv curious lad, 
Who' o'er the ingle hings his head, 
And begs o' neighbours' books to read 



* This alludes to a superstition prevale 
in Eskdale and Annuudale, that a light pi 
^edes in the night every funeral, marking t 



songs, on the general character 
fluence of which, some obs ( 
already been offered. We may hazard a 



from its admitting the more terrible, as well as 

■;;,,. ..,■, ..■, -. ■ ., 

without exception, pastoral, or rather rural. 
Such of them as are comic, frequently treat of 
a rustic courtship, or a country wed'ding ; or 
they describe the differences of opinion which 



Perhaps wi' Allan s sangs begin. 
How Tay and Tweed smooth iVmin; 
Through flowery 
Where Shepherd-lads their s«c;il,« 

Or may be, Burns, thy thrilling pagi 
May a' the r virtuous thoughts en;« 
While plaW'ul^ulh and p.aeid age 
In concert join, 
To bless the bard, who, gav or sage, 



Their bosoms warm to latest days, 

And aje improve. 

May still each fond attachment glow, 

May' rugged rocL^tilTdearVgrow! ° = " 



Wliile all the venal tribes decay, 

TuLi ::;-, . r. - 

ne vermin of a day, 



When winter binds the harden M plai 
Around each hearth, the hoary swain 
Shall teach the n s io<r xouth thy strai 

Our blessing w ith our sons remains', 
And Buna's I : 



DIAMOND CAUINi.l LIBRvrlY. 



lineaicd under a particular aspect. Neilbe 
tssed, as in the celebrated ode of Sappbo, lb 



Cent, 


of purity 


and inno 


ceuce, 


a,' 


well as of 




In these 






gs of Soot- 


bod 




,.'... 


tingui 




from the 




admired 


classical 


compositions of the 






b, such 






-•■'■•• 1 '.■ 




1! a-livel! 


Z'^h 1 


















poetry of Greece or 


Borne 




perhaps of 


any 




,. Many 




to 


Couru!i.[> ; 


Scot 






of n 


ral 


many may be 








lover 


to tbeir r 




On 







a decree of interest and reality is given lo the 
sentiment, by the spot destined lo these happy 
interviews being particular. zd. The lovers 
perhaps meet at the Bus\ aboon Traqunir, or 
on the Banks of EUrick ; the nvinph* are in. 
roked to wander among the wild's of Sctlin or 
the woodt of Incermay. Nor is the spot mere. 
he scenery is often described as 



iv.-ll ::■ 






lo rep re* 
e fancy, r Thus the i 



* The dialogu 



n husbands and thei 






t all lud 






BlioDtofMrPukartoi 

muse of Scotland d 



lighted in such ■ . 

in h.r ni-i 

f One or tuo axamplM may illustrate 

hundred years ago, begins tbu^ : — 



My heart grew light, I ro 



'I he lover, who i, a llighl.n,! :. 
relate the language he employed villi hi. I.,,*, 
land maid lo win her Matt, M lo 
he, I,, ii, with bim lo ill- Highland hills, there 
to share Ins fi.rlun . - 
themselves beautiful, lint we f.-el them villi 



u( plrtura pnesia, is faithfully ob- 
ie»e rustic bards, who are guided ly 
impulse of nature and sensibility 
enced the father of epic poetry, on 
nple the precept of the Roman' poel 

i is employed to interest the feelings. 



lympalbise deeply io any huma 
«e conceive nothing in the absl 



to be subdued by the powers of poetry or of 
eloquence. Tbe bards of a ruder condition of 
society paint individual object* ; and hence. 



af poets, whose lea 



ing overpowers their gi 



in the Scottish songs, while it coi 

thut they have originated among ■ p 

the earlier stages of so.-: 

of composition appears in songs of a 

after tbe ancient model, r. 



as of a beautiful stream, which i 
e actually seen, and which all 
at to our imagination. Let us ta 
mple. It is now a nymph th 
ir bow she exprt: 

lowblytbe each morn was I to s 
Iv swain come o'er the hill ■ 
skipp'd the burn, and Dew torn, 
met bim with good will." 



along ; be approaches nea 
leaps the brook, and Hies 
the recollection of these 
surrounding scenery becon 
fair mourner, aud she bursl 



With hi> pipe and my r» n ." 

Thus the individual spot of this happy bsl t- 
iew is pointed out, and the nil i| ill l 

* I list the dramatic form of writing charsc. 

ocieiy, may bo illustrated by a i : 

Ion,, r. The form of dialogue is adopled la 
lie old Scottish ballads, even in nsir.li .... 

•e» a very .lllv- 



BURNS LIFE. 



The Scottish song are of very unequal poet- 

110° easily find a pla°e in this species of compo- 
sition. The alliance of the words it the Scot- 



of these songs, with the more beautiful parts. 

the works of man some portion of the durabi 
ity of the works of nature. If, from our in 



:iated strain of si 



le clear s 



down the vale of Yarrow, or the yellow bruou 
waves on the Cowden-Knowes. 

The first attempts of Bur:., in soni-writin: 
were not very successful. His habitual inat 

harmony of numbers, arising probably fron 

formed, were faults likely to appear to mor 



better adapted by nature for following in si 



tory of the ballad is shortly this :— The" Can 
f Rhodes, in the absence of its lord, is attac 
d by the robber Edom o' Gordon. The la 

nd wounds Gordon, 'who in his rage orders t 
astle to be set on tire. That his orders a 
arried into effect, we learn from the export 
ation of the lady, who is represented as stan 
ng on the battlements, and remonstrating on 



For ae blast o' the westlin wind, 
To Maw the reek Eras thee. " 

The circumstantiality of the Scottish 
ongs, and the dramatic form which pr 

heir being the descendants and successors of 
he ancient ballads. In the beautiful m 
ong of Ma.-y of Castle-Cary, the dra 



positions the model of the Grecian than 
he Scottish muse. By study and practice 

lis earlier songs there is some ruggedness : 
this gradually disappears in his successive 

of this kind may be compared, in polished de- 







eloquence of sen 


sibility 


hey sur- 




s them all 












of Burns, like 




idels he 


fol 


owed and 


excelled, are oft 


udram 


tic, and 


ot' 


rmafnatu 


re P aYe' ever'y where^oc? 


te^wi'th 








he mil 




m! 


!";t";; 


e poets of grea 


F others 


admitted 


lai 


dscapcs he 


criptions exotic 

has painted, an 


image 


y. The 


sin 


/ie iust'ai 


"* such^ar^ 


to be 


n every 
ound iu 










region, 


es] 


ecially w 




atively 




lie 


"fou'nd in 


he valleys, and 


"oT'the 


1 always 


b' 


wooded st 


reams. Such sc 


'"-->'.> is 


ireuliar- 


we adva 


nee northwards 


"the™ 


uniber of 


'lh 


days of s 


jmmer, indeed, 










se, as well as ft 


om the 


mildness 
















d the summer 


night 








utiful. The gr 


eater ob 


iqnityor 



ciate in their songs the expression of passion, 
with the most beautiful of their scenery, ii. 



* A lady, of whose genius the editor enter- 
tains high admiration (Mrs Barbauld), has 
fallen into an error in this respect. In her 
prefatory address to the works of Collins, 

haustible variety, from the Song of Solomon, 
L.r-.ailiiiigof eas=ia, myrrh, and cinnamon, to 

sels carry their igh the frosts 

and snows of n. r less { I notlesspas- 

not walkTn the midst^f frost and snoww Al- 
most all the scenes of the Gentle Shepherd are 

objects, and at the most genial season of the 
year. Ramsay introduces all his acts with a 
prefatory description to assure of this. The 
fault of the climate of Britain is not, that it 






DIAMOND CABINET LIUR.utV. 



'tied of poetry drp 

1 by Burns. Th< 
if bis in which parti 









Scottish songs, they are iu the fa ; 
appropriate and interesting. In, (mice, in proof 
of Ibis might be quoted from ibe Lea Hif, 
Highland Mary, the SuUier's ILtani, Lofin 
Water, from that beautiful pastoral, Bosnia 
Jean, and a great number of others. Oca. 
6ionally tbe force of bis genius carries him be- 
yond the usual boundaries of Scottish song, 
and the natural objects introduced have more of 
the character of sublimity. An instanco of this 
kind is noticed by Mr Syme,* and many others 



a dashing 



There seek m 
Till grief m, 

Ne'er to w 

"TeU.t'g behind' th 



;, the scene of which is 



9 arcbetipes, and rises 






10 other in our language, 
to seek a comparison of 
ecourse to tbe poetry of 



Burns has made an important addition to the 
songs of Scotland. In bis composition!, the 
poetry equals and sometimes sm 
music He has enlarged tbe poetical teener) 



con-. II 


rated by bis ii 


mortal vers 


. The Doon, 




gar, the Ayr, 




d the Cluden, 


trill it 


future, like I 


e Yarrow, t 


te Tweed, and 


th.-T, 


y,bocon,ider 


■J us classic 


















The 


■Tetter part of the songs of Burns were 




i after lie re 




he county of 


Du.uf 


ie». lufluer 


csd, perbap 


s. by habits 


formed in early life, 


'",iir."" \\ 1, 


inpnsed *\ llile 










hi . t iTOurl 






banks of tb 


Nitb. or o 


• Ii .,- ('"luden". 






ml ..... Lin 


luden Abbey ; 


'" 


is beautiful s 


,.i ry be ba 


t very happily 




e filgacis glor 


« seculi. 




'""' 









during ibe sofinest and tee 

during the stillness and solemnity of the moon- 

light night. 

BO species of poetry, the production* 
of the drama not excepted, so much calculated 
to influence the morals, as well as lb; 
of a people, as those popular verses which are 
associated with the national airs, and wh.ch 
being learnt in tbe years of infancy, moke a 
deep impression on the heart before tbe evolu- 
tion of tbe powers of the understanding. 'Ibe 
compositions of Burns, of this kind, now pre- 
sented in a collected form to tbe world, make 
a most important addition to the popular songs 
of his nation. Like all bis other suiting-. 



and to the domestic circle of their infanc) : 
and to cherish those sensibilities which, under 
due restriction, form tbe purest happiness of 

composed some songs on which this praise can- 
not be bestowed, let us hope that they will 
speedily be forgotten, la several instances, 
where Scottish airs were allied to words ob- 
jectionable in point of delicacy. Burns bss sub- 
stituted others of a purer character. On such 
occasions, without changing the subject, he has 
changed the sentiments. A proof of this BUJ 
be seen iu the air of JoAn Andersen my Jo, 
which is now united to words that breathe a 
strain of conjugal tenderness, that is as highly 
mural as it is exquisitely affecting. 

Few circumstances could afford a more 
striking proof of the strength of Burns 'genius, 
than tbe general circulation of his poems in 
England, notwithstanding the dialect iu which 
the greater part are writteu, and which might 
be supposed to render them here uncouth or ub- 



n purer English style. The singular faculty 
ling in the same poem bu. 

gery of n sublime and terrilic nature, enabled 
him to use this variety of dialect on some occa- 
sions with sir. king ell. c. 
o' Shanter affords an instance of ti. 

to situations of tbe most awful and terrib e 

or the 9a0Uilfa dialect enables him to add two 
additional notes to the bottom of bis scale. 

Grant efforts have been made by the inhabi 
'..nit, of Scotland, of ihe superior ranks, to ap- 
proximate in their speech to the p. i 
standard ; and ibis lias made it dillici 
in tho Scottish dialect, without exciting in 
them some feelings of disgust, which in Kng. 
. 

is not offended, nay, on certain subjects, be ii 
perhaps pleased with the rustia dialect, as he 

limy be Willi .rilus. 

■ mi in Inhabiting fata t 

. ind has alteiiiiMcd to 



BURNS LIFE. 



es of disgust which we f 
le of high birth in the dre: 
h if she-he really young at 



imes such a dres 



C'r-,/ 






rapery ; 



t her n 



less adorned : and to these sha trusts for fixing 

fashion has no sway. If she succeeds, a new 
association arises. " The dress of the beautiful 
rustic becomes itself beautiful, and establishes 
a new fashion for the young and the gay. And 
when, in after ages, the contemplative o'bserver 
shall view her picture in the gallery that con- 
tains the portraits of " ' 



n the d 



i of her 






day, her drapery 

that of her rivals, from the standard of his 

taste, and he will give the palm to her who 

Burns wrote professedly for the peasantry of 
his country, and by them their native dialect is 
universally relished. To a numerous class of 
the natives of Scotland of another descriplion, 

different point of view. Estranged from their 
native soil, and spread over foreign lands, the 



merits and the descriptions on which it is 


a similar arrangement. One writ 


einployed.to recall to their minds the interesting 


force— another in ease; he is supe 




both, in whom both these qualities 


pleasing, many iender'reeollections. Literary 


Of Homer himself, it may be sai 


men, residing at Edinburgh or Aberdeen, 


his own Achilles, he surpasses his 




in mobility as well as strength. 




The force of Burns lay in the po 






To the use of the Scottish dialect in one spe- 


iiturt ; and these will be found to 


cies of poetry, the composition of songs, the 


v hijh seem destined to immort 


taste of the public has been for some time 


reconciled. The dialect in question excels, as 


ifusitility had an uncommon rang 




alive to every species of emotion. 




of the few poets that can be ment 



* These observations are excited by sc 
remarks of respectable correspondents of 
description alluded to. This calculatioi 
the number of Scotchmen living out of Si 
land is not altogether arbitrary, and it is ] 
bably below the truth. It is, in some degi 
founded on the proportion between the nun 
of the sexes in Scotland, as it appears from 
invaluable Statistics of Sir John Sinclaii 

cularly, Burns seems to have written his s 
beginning, Their groves o' sweet myrtle 
beautiful strain, which, it may be confidel 
predicted, will be sung with equal or supe 
interest, on the banks of the Ganges or of 
Mississippi, as on those of the'Tay or 









ind exactness of its terms for natural objects ; 
ind in pastoral or rural songs, it gives a Doric 
; mplicitv, which is very generally approved. 
Neither "does the regret seem well founded 
nhich some persons of taste have expressed, 
hat Burns used this dialect in so many other 






ic life ai 



his '* humble ec r _- 
conceive, that this could have been done with 
equal humour and effect, if he had not adopted 
their idiom. There are some, indeed, who 
will think the subject too low for poetry. Per- 
sons of this sickly taste will find their delica- 



■ 



it seek f. 






learned 

gratification in 

■' unbridled 

sibility of 



s humble a situation of life; bi 
e difficult to find any other, v 
•ning his subsistence by daily lab 



3 indie; 



e uglier 



lergyj 



genius. The father of epic poetry exhibits one 
of his heroes as excelling in strength, another 
in swiftness— to form his perfect warrior, 
these attributes are combined. Every species 
illectual superiority admits, perhaps, of 

to them 



Scottish peasant with the works of these giants 
in literature, might appear presumptuous ; 
vet, it may be asserted that he has displayed 



over the melancholy story of his life, it is 

of his mind, it is easy to see, that out of su=h 
materials have been reared the fairest and the 



THE DEATH OF BURNS. 

BY MR ROSCOE. 



i subjoined all of them 



b. of Burns, some of them of consider- 
have made a selection, would have been 



The Editor, therefore, presents one poem only on Ihis melancholy subject ; a poem which h 
not before appeared in print. It is from the pen of one who has sympathized deeply in tl 
fate of Burns, and will not be found unworthy of its author— the Biographer of Lorenzo 
Medici. Of a person so well known, it is wholly unnecessary for the Editor to speak ; an. 
if it were necessary, it would not be easy fnr him to find language that would adequately e: 
press his respect and his affection. 



ir high thy bleak majestic hills, 



But ah ! what poet now shall tread 
Thy airy heights, thv woodland re ; gn, 

Since he, the sweetest 'bard, is dead, 
That ever breathed the soothing strain i 



Thy lonely wa 


stes and frown 


ng skies 


To him wer 


>- all with ra 






He heard with jov the tern 


-- ; 




Thai waked 


, , - 




' 


And oft thy w 


nding dells 


le 




Where wild 






their rathe 


And with sine 




brought 


To thee the 


summer's ea 


rli 


.st bloom. 


But ah! nofo 


nd maternal 




tie 



And cold the han 
What though thy vi 



And he; 
Yet who i 



•ms, thy sons excel 



Da'j-dreamsof 


>yes would glide 


et, not by cold neglect depress 'd, 
With .iaewv arm he turn'd the soil, 
unk with the" evening sun to rest, 

The pow'rs of fancy came along, 
nd srothed his lengthened hours of to: 


-Ah ! days of bliss, too swiftly fled, 
When vigorous health from labour sp 

nd bland contentment smooths the bed 
And sleep his ready opiate brings ; 



l-Ic-at the light forms of young^desire 



Bid brighter phantoms round him an 
Jet Klatlerj spread ber siewlc snare. 

And Fame attract bis v.grant g'.anc- 
Lri uprightly Pleasure too advauce. 

In. n I'd lir 'i^, unclasp 'd ber rou 



DIAMOND ( aVBUIBT l.'UBARY. 

let Desp.ir, with wirard light, 
i. close tbe yawning gnlf below, 

er apectred illi and «bap-» of *o< 

.bow beneath a eheerle.1 abed, 
ith sorrowing bean and »tr»»miii 
lent gri»f where droops ber bead 
lapartjuror-bUi earl, jo,, ; 



And point tbem from the sparkling bou I ; 



To more refined s< 



Ilcvond tbe peasan 



That wai 



i tbe sons of polish'd life, 
his throbbing veins bent liijh 



hrobblng veins b( 
ulse of delight. 



"Tis done, the powerful 



: vsith bis fate contends. 
An idiot laugh the welkin rend* 
r in. degraded lies; 
Till pniing Heaven the teil extend* 
That shrouds tbe Poet', ardent eje, 



Hear high th, b 


eak majestic bills, 


Th, .belt 




lejs proudly spread 


And, Sntia 


pom 


b> thousand nil.. 




ihy h 




But never u 


ore shall poet tread 


V."'!^'' 


height 


(hy woodland reigu 



GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE 



ROBERT BURNS. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



It i* impossible to dismiss this Volunv 
Correspondence of our Bard, willu 
anxiety us to the reception it may ni« 
'1 he experiment we are making has 

a portion of the recent and unpremed 
fusions of a man of genius been com: 
the press. 

Of the following letters of Burns, i 
craLlc number were transmitted for pul 

I . few have been printed e 
w ill easily be believed, that iu a series 
written w'ltbout the least view to nu! 
various passages were found unf 
from different considerations, 
readily supposed, tho 



delicacy— the unbridled effusions of panegyric 
and regard. But though many c I 
ore printed from originals furnished by the per- 
sons to whom they were addressed, others are 
printed from lirst draught., cr sketches, found 
among the papers of our Bard. Though in ge- 
neral no man committed his Iboogll 
respondent, trith Im consideration or elloii than 

til hut first essays, and 

wrote out hi* communications in a fairer char- 
i haps iu more studied language. 
In the chaos if his manuscripts, some of the 
original sketches were found; and ns Umm 
sketches, tl l.iirly to be 

.. ILe offspring Of hl> mind, where 



linn.*' Wi 
. , ■- ■ 
■ following lorrr.pondeuce formed 



d under the 


arilit.g nearly 


of sentiment and forms o 
d, therefore, the ledious- 
ns, it has been found nc- 




parts of gTea 



they have seemed in themselves worthy of a 
place in this volume, we have not hesitated to 
insert them, though they may not always cor- 
respond exactly with the litters transmitted, 
which have been lost or withheld. 

Our author appears at one time to have firm- 
ed an intention of making a coll-, i 
rut of a it 
considerable number of 



ir gly he copied an 

Kiddle of Glenriddle, Esq. " Among these was 
the account of his life, addressed to I 






In 



imperfect sketches (it do 
that he had the letters actually sent to hU cor- 

altered his eipr.ssions. In such instance* his 
emendations have been adopted; but in truth 
there are but five of the letters thus selected by 
the poet, to be fouud iu the present volume, the 
rest being thought of inf. nor merit, or other- 
wise until tor the public eye. 

In printing this volume, the Editor has found 



i have been very few, and such as may be 
osed to occur in the careless l 

-racters, who have not been in ihe 

trying their compositions to the 

eortwelioai have never been ex- 

■ habitual modes of ej 

to violate the delicacies 

of our language, which be wrote in general 
with great accuracy. Some citlerenee will 
indeed be found in this respect in his earlier and 
in his h.t.r compositions: , sud this volume w 11 
exhibit the progress of Us. style, as well as the 
bistort of lis mind. In the Four.: 

introduced, and some 
of Ulterior in j 

| from page I lo p« r I 



LETTERS, &c. 



No. I. 

TO A FEMALE FRIEND. 



I Verilv believe, my dear E. that the pure 
genuine' feelings of love, are as rare in the 
world as the pure genuine principle of virtue 
and piety. This, I hope, will account for the 
uncommon style of all my letters to you. By 
uncommon, I mean, their beinj written in sue!) 



ough, except you 



> pleat 



i have aften thought, that if a well-grounded 
afi'ection be not really a part of virtue, 'tis 
turn, thins extremely akin to it. Whenever 

csit ; , kindles in my breast. It extinguishes 

are but too apt to infest me. I grasp every 
creature in the arms of universal benevolence, 
and equally participate in the pleasures of the 
happy, and sympathize with the miseries ot tiie 

look up to the divine Disposer of events, with 
an eye of gratitude for the blessing which I 



ivish drudge may go 



ideas. I would be heartily out of "humour 
with myself, if I thought I were capable of 



No. II. 
TO THE SAME. 



imongst people of our station of life: I do not 
neau the persons who proceed in the way of 
largain, but those whose afi'ection is really 

Though I be, as you know very well, but a 

vho are much the afl'air of 

tan I am, I often think it is owing 
o lucky chance more than to good management, 
hat there are not more unhappy marriages 
han usually are. 



i than the rest ; there is something, he 



favourably, perhaps 



pleasure of seeing you, you may bid me take 
my own lesson home, and tell me that the pas- 
sion I have professed for you is perhaps one of 
those transient flashes I have been describing ; 
bat I hope my dear E. you will do me the 

the love I ha're e for yoa IS founded on the sa- 

consequence, so long as you continue possessed 

to love you. Believe me, my dear, it is love 
state happy. People may talk of flames and 



.1 LIBRARY 

'-*■ flow Of] 

uclhing 

indrcd feeling, of the heart, I 



only be the foui 

has always been my opinion, that the married 

life was July friendship in a more exalted de- 

It ton will be so good as to grant mj »i»h«, 
and it should please providence to spare us to 
I be latest periods of lite, 1 can look forward 
and see, that eteu then, though bent down 

worldly circumstances will be indifferent to 
me, 1 will regard my E. with the tciiderest 
affection, and for this plain reason, because she 



I know, were I to speak in such a style I 
many a girl who thinks herself p. - 
small share of sense, she would think n rid 
culoo3 — but the language of the heart is, m 
dear E., the only courtship I shall ever use I 

" ,0 "vhen I look over what I have written, 
am sensible it is vastly different from the ordi 
iiary style of courtship — but I shall make u 
npology — I know your good nature will ejciu 
what your good sense may sec nnios. 



No. III. 
TO THE SAME. 



I safest, but actui 

dilliculty in ncliiij 
ion, than when hi 



a peculiarly unlucky 
j£% far the eaataat 



think that it li very ditlieuli tor a person of 
ordinary capacity to talk of love and rondneaa, 
which are not felt, and to make n 
btancy and fidelity, which are never intended 
lo be performed, .f he be villain enough to 
practise such detectable couduct : tut to a 
man whoso heart glowo with the principles of 
integrity and truth ; anil who >m 

woman of unliable nenon, uncommon rafina- 

l) own feel. 

■ 



such a oue, in inch 
you, my •!■ I 

; -lit, COI 

lain i> Mi.-h a uui 
mid di.tru.ttul anxli 



i 

piactisrd, mill wlu.-li I 

..ll yea lh« 

plan. Hull. a, oaiianl 



unmanly in the arts of dissimulation and false- 
hood, that I am surprised they can be Hard by 
any one in so noble, so generous a passion aa 
tirtuous love. No, my dear E. I shall ncier 
endeavour to gain your favour by sixh detest- 
able practices. If you will be to good and to 
generous as to aduiit me for your i 
companion, your bosom friend ti r 
lb. re is nothing on this side of eternity shall 
give me greater transport ; but I shall never 

worthy of a man, and I will add of a Christ. an. 
'1 here is one tiling, my dear, which I earnest- 
ly request of you, and it is this; that yoa 
would soon either put an end lo my hopes by 
a peremptory refusal, or cure me of my fears 

It would oblige me much if you would send 

only add further, lhat if a behaviour regulat- 
ed (though perhaps but very imperfectly) by 
the rules of honour and virtue, if a heart de- 



n a husband ; 1 Lo;>e ;ou 
u your real friend and su 



ess; and if 
in a friend. 
Or Cud them 



N . IV. 
TO THE BANK 

I ought in good manner* lo have acknowledged 
the receipt of your letter before this lime, 
but my heart was so shocked with the con- 
* ' that I can scarcely yet collect my 

attempt to describe what I fell on 
receiving your letter. I read it over and over. 



thoorhti ao 

idaf, 

iguage of refusal, 



s peremi 



Taa. 



kind of happinesi 
unmanly lo say, 
be happy ; but s 



may be met with in others ; but lhat amiable 
goodness, thai lender feminine softness, that 
endearing sweetness of djapoaitloti. with all the 



nrd by an cdue 



ias fondly flattat 

04 say it eter reached a hop*, lb 



delightful images, an- 
il brooded over them ; but now I am wretched 
for Ibe loss of what 1 Nell] had ■ 

of y ou as 
he admil- 
I 



wait on you, and as I expect to remov 

>se, will perhaps soon leave this place. I i 
see you or hear from you soon ; and if 
:pression should perhaps escape me ra 
o warm for friendship, I hope you will 
>n it in, my dear Miss , (pardon 

No. V. 

TO MR JOHN MURDOCH, 

SCHOOLMASTER, 

STAPLES DJN BUILDINGS; LONDON. 

DEAR SIB, Lochlee, loth January, V, 



the many obligations I lie under to your k 

"Tdonot'doubt'/'sir, but you will wis! 
know what has been the result of all the p 
of an indulgent father, and a masterly teacl 



that bred as I have teen, i 
has figured pretty well as w 



LETTERS. 

pnrts in my compositic 

stomach, and I scorn 

- ■ ai -ore ever 

the idea, of sneaking in 

-: - ■ 

my heart 1 i 

the matter' of books, in< 



of care agog ; an 


d if 


1 ii 


::l 


vuh 


r'for ii.; 
egard to 


any thing further 


E 




;.';•: 




=t =L,n~ 


of the unfortuna 












much terrify me 






111. 






talent for what cc 




^ 




lil -'a 












itkd In 


a hoary 








:n e Bi : 


em, that 


even then— I wot 


ddle 






'-;r> 










hens 


.,i:s .ii 




for, though indol 






so far as an 




ly delicate constit 




per 






ot lazy ; 


and in many thir 






:'"";". 
















JeeutVr 


the sake of the m 


ne ; , , 


but 


one' 


of the 





.my to n 



I, I am very profuse, 
my ...um... auiuors are of the sentiimm .1 

prize nest to the Bible"; Alan of 'the World; 
Sterne, especially his Sentimental Journey ; 
Macpherson's Ossian, fyc. These are the 






cumbrance in their way. -But I dare say I 
shall conclude with begging you to give Mrs 



No. VI 

[The following is taken from the MS. pro: 
presented by our Bard to Mr Riddel.] 



Observation*, Suits, Songs, Scraps of Poe- 
try, <$e. by R. B._aman who had little art in 

was, however a man of some sense, and a great 
deal of honesty, and unbounded good-wiil to 






ike cares and passioi 



ied by the mnde 



DIAMOND CABINET! LIBRARY. 

Basis all the bitter horror, of hi. crime, 
afler proper purpose of at 



The form! 



pear in print. " — Shentlone. 
en youth is lon s expired, to in 



input 

and, th-r-rur, 



ier, the spontaneous 1« 



guage of my heart. 

September. 
I entirely ajrree with that judicious phihx 
pher, Mr Smith, in bit excellent Theory of 
Moral SknUmenU, that remorse is tbe i 
painful sentiment that can embitter the hu 
bosom. Any ordinary pilch of fnrliiude 
bear up tolerably well, under those calamil 
in the procurement of which we ourselves 1 



r, on the worst are those 
That to our fully or our rulll » ■ BWi . 
In every other siroamslaoes, lbs mind 

ii 

Hul when I., all ill- evil ..i ,„ 

This sting i. added — "Maine Illy Ibolilfa -elf! 

Of guilt, i i 

. 
l.iw. ihsrs a man 



hourhts to peace I 
O, happy I bappi .' enviable man ! 
O glorious magnanimity of soul I 









la- 










in the 


course of me 




penence of human life 


















ng else 


ban a happy 




pmu 


ent of constit 




nmg bun to 






jt lirlue. For 










T.ulct 






i, . 


self, can be. v. 






lofcfcri. 


Let any of the 




chiracler for 


re 


ul-.ril 
















sri 


it, of 


not from any 






fo 




of opportunity 












many of lb* 






es of mankind 


BS DM 


escaped, be. 




was out of th 


line of 


such temp... 






, filial oft.n. 




ways weigh. 








w much 




ej 


to the 


world's good 


opinion. 


because the 



I have often courted the acquaintance of 
hat part of mankind commonly known by the 
irdinarj phrase of blackguard; sometimes far- 

haracier ; those who, by thoughtless prodiga- 
lly or headstrong passions, have been driven 
» run. Though disgraced by follies, oat, 

- - 1 have yet found among them, 

n not a few instances, some of the noblest 
irtues, magnanimity, s enerosil), aisintere.lej 



April. 



it the men of th- world, if 



■ ■me here and there such olber out. 
of.the-way person. Such is Ihe peculiar plea- 
sure 1 take in Ihe season of winter, more than 
ihe rati of the year. This, I believe, may be 
partly owing to my misfortunes giving my 



impost, ami tlie hoar] waste 

1 deep, stretch 'd o'er tbe buried 



I, id, r 



uind I 



There is scared, any e.rlhlf ""jecTgl,« BM 

ibing which axalia n.e, soma. 

■o than to walk in 

•li plants- 

ioii, in a oloudj nlolSr-da>| and hear Ibe 

U Sa s, and 



a la 



BURNS LETTERS. 






I think the whole species of young mi 
ij be naturally enough divided into tv 
and classes, which I shall call the grave a. 
i mervy ; though, by the bye. these terms ( 



ion, follow the 



but poverty and oUcurity are 'on!;, evils t„ ium 
who can sit gravely dov, n 



life, v 



reringsofgeniu 
with all the del 

and end of hut 
with tl 



Is are capable 

acy of feeling. 

in life is to cu 
t Being to »h 



ightful ; and to maintaia an in- 
tive conduct towards our fellow-creatures ; 

nay be fit members for that society of the 

teach us to expect beyond the grave: I 



■ n of p 






, amusing him 



erm the poor, indolent devil he has left behind 

There is a noble sublimity, a heart-meltim? 
enderness, in some of our ancient ballads" 



never; i bablj owed a 



though far inferi 



.veil ; the last, 
iin- one who, 
gkts, yet eyes 



x afier 



:e in the world- unfortunate in love ; he too 
> felt the loss of his little fortune, the l us5 of 
;uds, and, worse than all, the loss of the wo- 



irt, tuned to all the feelings of poe 



This is all worth quoting in my MSS. and 
aore than all. 

R. E. 



No. VII. 

TO MB AIKEN. 

eman to whom the Cotter'i 
day Night is addressed.] 

Ayrshire, 17SG. 



was with Vv'iison, my prii 



d all o 



day, 



is. After I had paid him ail demands, I made 
im the offer of the second edition, on the 
azard of being paid out of the Jirst and rea- 

aper of a thousand copies would coat about 



eing disappointed of my second 
3t having it in my power to show 



i LIBRARY 



poem of Thr Brt'r« of Ayr. I would 

myself as a «i 

ble, in a very long life, 

winn, and tender delicacy with whir* - u 

witli mwlf in my grateful 



. 



worldly maxims and views lo settle into selfii 
habit*. 

I hare been feeling all the various rotatioi 
and movements within, respecting the excis 
There are many things plead strongly again 
it ; the uncertainty of getting soon into bu.- 
cess, the consequences of my follies, which 
may perhaps make it impracticable for me to 
stay at home ; and besides, I have for some 

from causes which you pretty well know — the 
pang of disappointment, the sting of pride, 
with some wandering slabs of remorse, whicb 
never fail lo settle on rov vitals like vultures, 
away by the calls 



"-''■<:•• " 



mirth, n 



,f the n 



m the hour of soci 

madness of an intoxicated criminal under the 
hands of the executioner. All these reas 
uri»e me to go abroad : and to all these reas 
1 — e only one answer — the feelings o 
k; d :« »l, e present mood I am 



I have 



scale against 






to my very soul : though sceptical in some 
points, of our current belief, yet, I think, I 
have every evidence for tht 



. a life be- 
youd the stinted boLrne of our present exis- 
tence : if so, then how should I, in the pre- 
sence of that tremendous Ikiug, the Author 
of existence, how should I meet the reproaches 
of those who stand to me in the dear relation 
of children, whom I deserted in the smiling 
innocency of helpless infancy ? O, thou great 
unknown Power! thou Almighty God ! who 
host lighted up reason in my breast, and blessed 
me with immortality ! 1 lime frequently wan- 
dered from that order and regular ■ 
for the perfection of thy works, yet thou hast 
Bavarian me nor forsaken me ! 



■tiling of tin- storm .il mi-chief thick- 
er my folly-dented head. Should 
Wanda, my benefactors, be successful 
for me, perhaps it may not 




lo tell the. truth, 1 hi.e 1 
•li„ In.t complaint, •• the woi 
lias been kind lo me, lull, uji 

inning dlitrn ill 






possess a warm heart and iooffensise man:..-r» 
(whicb last, by the bye, waa ruber more thin 
1 could well boast, ) still, more than ibete pas- 
sive qualities, there was something to be d<mr. 
H"hen all my achool-fellows and youthful com- 
peers (those misguided few excepted, who 
joined, to use a Gentuo phrase, the hallackam 
of the human race), were striking off with 



other of the many paths of busy life, I v. 
•' standing idle iu the market place." or oi 
left the chase of the butterfly from fl 
Dower, to hunt fancy 



the butterfly fi 



were a probability of mending them, I at 
fair chance; but, according to the rei 
Westminster divines, though conviction 
precede conversion, it it very far from a 
implying it.* 



TO .MRS DUNLOP. OF DCUXOP. 






for my copies, 
handsome com 
my poetic abili 






you are pleased to pay 
ra fullv persuaded that 
f mankind so feelingly 
alive to the titillations of applause as the sons 
: nor is it easy lo conceive how 
the heart of the poor bard dances with rapture, 
when those whose character in life give* them 
aright to be polite judges, honour him with 
their approbation. Had you been thoroughly 
acquainted with me. Madam, you could not 
have touched my darling heart-chord mere 
sweetly than by noticing my attanprj 

nit Country. 

" Great, patriot hero ! ill requited chief ! 

TheBi 



hich I perused with pleasure, was . 
'Hamtilali the next « .- . 

-' -' my earlier 



r several of my 



" ' ■ 



. 



BURNS LETTERS. 



" Sjne to the Leglen wood, wbe 



pilgrim did to Loretto ; and, as I e: 

(Vr'eve.uhenl'w'L'a rhjm«)f that m 

plowed with a wish to be able to make 



No. IX. 
TO MRS STEWART OF STAIR. 

The hurry of my preparations for going abro 



tainment to you : but of that I am far fron 

i '■: - ': '. I. - : ' '. ■ 1 - .' .■'!■;,, 

of Ettridt Banks, you will easily see the impro- 
priety of exposing much even in manuscript. 



No. X. 
DR BLACKLOCK 



THE REVEREND MR G. LOWR1E. 



'enes, a 


July even 


ng, and one c 


f the h 


ieces of 


Nature's 




the i 










eauliful T 


- 






















Iamq, 






it l.: = k 


orld wo 








bscure ba 




ny of the great 












ith the 


ncense of flattery. The 


r hizh 


estry, th 




eat and godlike qual 


nd actions, shouhfb 


e recounted w 


til tlu-i 


xaggerate 




on. This, m 


adam. 


isk for which I am 




. Be, 


certain d 


' 


5 pride of heart, I k 



no access to where your real character is to be 
found — the company of your compeers : and 

adulation is by no means the road to your good 
opinion. 

One feature of your character I shall eyer 

on you at Stair. I am little acquainted with 



happy they could make some classes of their 
- IS by condescension and affability, they 
would never stand so high, measuring out will 
every look the height of their elevation, but 
e mdesceud as sweetly as did Mrs Stewart oi 



+ The song inclosed is that given in the Life 
of oar Poet, beginning, 
"i'nas e'en- the dewy fields were green, &c. 



the human mind is susceptible. A nu 


nber of 




ing the 










of Nature's force and beneficence exert 


d under 


numerous and formidable disadvantag 




none equal to that with which you ha 








and delicacy in his serious poems, a 


vein of 



: of a more fest 

warmly approved ; and I think I shall never 
open the book without feeling my astonishment 

have expressed my approbation in yerse ; but 
whether from declining life, or a temporary 
depression of spirits, it is at present out of my 

Mr Stewart, Professor of Morals in this 

poems, and I had desired him to get my name 



It has been told me by a gentleman, to whom 

copy with diligence and ardour, that the whole 
impression is already exhausted. It were, 
therefore, much to be wished, for the sake of 
the yoong man, that a second edition, more 
numerous than the former, could immediatily. 

sic merit, and the exertion of the author's 



No. XL 
FROM SIR JOHN WHITEFORD. 



± The reader will perceive that this is the 

:ter whi.-ll produced the determination of our 

West Indies, and to" try the fate of a new edi- 
of his poems in Edinburgh. A copy of 

this letter was sent by Mr Lowrie to Mr G. 
lton, and by him communicated to Burns, 
I whose papers it was found. 



l:,.nmrnt of an; object you hi 
chnracter u a man (forgive 
order), u well u a poe', 



DIAMOND t.ABlNLI LlllllAKV. 
vein view. Youi 



second edition of >our poems, to la; it out in 
the blocking of a small farm. I am persuaded 
it would be "" 



ic of life much mor< 



JOHN WII1TEF0RD. 



No. XII. 

from 



I rejoice to hear, from 
tower still higher by t 



For your comfort, 1 am in great I 
number of your friends and adm 
creo.se, and that you have sou. 

Now, my friend, such rapid su 
uncommon ; and do you think J 
anger of suffering by a 



old of your 
rural simplicity and pur.lv, like TeUmochus. 
D] Mentor's aid, in Calypso's isle, ore.en in 
that ol Cyprus. I bopej/ou have also Minerva 
with you. I need nut tell \m ' 
«ii»J-I dimd-nee u.i.l invinci'bl. 



nd, and exalt and re 
1 hope you will nol it 



the iuiaginati. 



"•"•■■ '"" < l'" : >- r . '" """" '" r >•»" 

elegant co.npo.il.on ... vrr-e. All 

III, ae I good »i,be» for your liinlur 



No. XIII. 
TO MR CHALMERS. 

Edinburgh, 21th Dec 1 IM. 
MY DEAR rallMl, 

all men living. I bad 'intended to send' you an 
entertaining letter ; and bv all the plodding, 
stupid powers, that in nodding conce.ied ma- 

— a heavily solemn oath this! — I am, and have 
been ever since I came to Edinburgh, as unfit 
to write a letter of humour ai to write a com- 
mentary on the Revelation*. 

To make yon some amends for what, before 
you reach this paragraph, you will have suffer- 
ed, I inclose you two poems I hare carded 
and spun since! passed Ulenbuek. One blank 

in the address to Edinburgh, •< Fair B ,' 

is the heavenly Miaa Burnet, daughter to Lord 
Monboddo, at whose house 1 have bad the 

binalion's of beauty, grace, and goodness, the 

and have Se wriaen a to Mr BaUenline and' Mr 

want them. My direction is — Care of Andrew 
Bruce, merchant, Bridge Street. 



Ho, XIV. 

TO THE EARI. OF EGLINTON. 

tV LORD. Edinburgh, January. 1787. 
I have but slender pretensions to philoso- 
phy. I cannot rise to the exalted ideas of a 

'-.. of the world; but have all those ne- 

I prejudices which, I believe, glow pecu- 
■trong in the breast of a Dimraumii 
There is senrcely any thing to which I am so 



ardently than mine, to be distinguished: 
though. lill very laieli. I looked in. , 
lide for a ray of light. It is easy, thru, lo 
-urns how much I was graiified with the coua. 
enance and approbation of one of my country 's 

called on me yesterday, on the port ol" your 
lordship. Your munificence, .... lord, cer. 
■-•-■-> deserves my very grateful aekuowledg- 



enough ..t 

... ijaawuu 

...ur lords!.. p with n.y thanks; bul .... Lea. I 

ngralllada, 
ipaMi uf j r- J — 



LETTERS, 
my head— I assure you, madam, I 



No. XV. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

MADAM, Edinburgh, January 15, 17S7 

moment honoured with, is a deep reproach i< 
uie foi ungrateful negiect. I will tell you tin 
real truth, fur I am miserably awkward at ; 
lib : I wished to have written to Dr Moor 
before I wrote to you ; but though, every da' 
: :..:c lr.-.-::; ."...-. J - [■...■' 

pressed on my thoughts, yet I could nc 
n.y soul set about it. I know his fame 
character, and I am one of " the sons of 



mlly 



°.r day, ou tbe'part of Lord Egli 

for two copies of my next edition. 
The word you object to in the mention I 



plied for the opinion of some of the Literati 



d the ii 



losed, 



ed a description of Kjle, of which the addi- 
tioDal stanzas are a part, as it originally stood. 

ju.-tice to'ii.e merits of the Sari",v,,- of A.".- 
Comtry, which sooner or later, I shall at least 
-mpt. 



aided with all the powers of polite 
polite books, and polite company— 1< 
ged forth, to the full glare of learned 
observation, with all my iinperfectio 
ward rusticity and cru-e unpolishe 



e fo» 



dty of a poet in my ob- 
scure situation, without any of those advan- 
tages which are reckoned necessary for that 
character, at least at this time of dav, has 
raised a partial tide of public notice, which has 

fceliiigh certain, nn abilities are inadequate "to 

perhaps, as far below the mark of truth. 
Your patronising me, and interesting your- 



bill any charms to the heart of a bard, compar- 
ed with the patronage of the descendant of the 

No. XVI 

TO DR MOORE. 



I his works. Those w 






in such a manner by judges of the lirst charac- 

rence ; only I am sorry they mostly came loo 

certainly ha»e altered, were gone to the press. 
The hope to be admired for ages is, in by 
far the greater part of those even who are au- 
thors of repute, an unsubstantial dream. For 



^Jrsln Mother* 
ent phasis from what is common, which may 
assist originality of thought. Still I know 
very weil'the novelty of my character has by 
far the greatest share in the learned and polite 
notice 1 have lately had ; and in a language 
where Pope and Churchiil have raised the 
laugh, and Shenstone and Gray drawn the tear 
— where Thomson and Beattie have painted 
the landscape, and Lyltletou and Collins de- 
scribed the heart, I am not vain enough to hope 
for distinguished poetic fame. 



No. XVII. 
FROM DR MOORE. 



DIAMOND CABIN FT LIBRARY. 

plain of my fri 



» freely m 



Mr, Danlon for lran.mil 
from my letters lo her, by a 
too carelessly written for 

hope, for (he freedom I use with crrlain ex. 
. in consideration of my admiration 
of the poems in general. If I may judge of 
inn nutbor's disposition from his works, with 
all the other good qualities of a poet, he h»a 
not the irritate temper ascribed to that race 
of men, by one of their own number, whom 

"and curious felicity of elpre,.i. n. 1 
poetical benuli L 



i,hlv , 



a; the 



f , „ 



E3i. 


i:h. ■, lb.... 


sensibility to a 
d the iudepend 
gh ihe whole, g 


■ 


urable im 


res-ion of the t 


liiv, ma.; 




egret ihat I di 






n effect of whi 


haw 1 i 


my seeing 


(he aulhor last 


when I w 


,- longer 


n Scotland tha 


been for n 

m .'n['!.'u 




m It at the or 
Edinburgh, ant 


you pi su 
Dr Blair, 


2!H 


informed, inter 



a: 

self very much for you. I beg to be remem- 
bered to him : nobody can have a warmer re- 
gard for that gentleman (ban I have, which, 
independent of the worth of his character, 
would be kept olive by (he memory of 
our common friend, the late Mr George 

B e. 

Before I received your letter, I sent inclosed 

liams, a young poetical lady, which she wrote 
on reading your Maunlaia-Daiaj ; perhaps it 
may nol displease you.* 

I have been (rying (o add to the number of 
your subscribers^ but I find many of my ac 



is as follows : 

len's flaunting flowers dc- 



'II..- "Mountain Daisy," 
ray 
\ poc( drew from heaven. 
Ah. like Unit lonely Hower th 



i shelter of the vale. 



I in li.hi uulmrrow'd bin 
. 1. .1.1 ilit I.. 
I 



Kl ill. 
TO DH MOOHE. 
Edinburgh, \bt)i February, 1787. 

Pardon my seeming neglect in delaying s. 
long to acknowledge the honour j M 

- kind notice of me, January 23d. 

plojineiit th in following the plough, nor conk 
boast any thing higher than a distant a* 
quamlauce »i(h a country clergyman. .Ver. 

(hiiig to ,-,-k from (he gr.-al, and I do not feal 
their judgment ; but genius polished by learn- 
ing, and at its proper point of elevation in thi 
eye of (he world, this of late I frequently mee 



heart, that ll 



■Ity of my character, and 
ight altogether 



men, have borne me to 

For the honour Mi-s W. has done me. 

please. Sir, return her in my name, my most 

grateful (hanks. 1 have more than once 

piying her in kind, bu( have 

dency. 1 had never before heard of her : but 
(he other day I go! her poems, which, for 

and others (he offspring of the heart, give me a 
great deal of pleasure. 1 have little preten- 
sions to critic lore: there are, I think, two 
characteristic features in her poetry — the un- 
feUered wild fligh( of nalive genius, and (he 
querulous, H>mtire tenderness of " time-settled 



FROM DR MOORE. 
Clifford Street, tSlh February, ] 



our letter of the ] 
unsure, ll is not 
correctness and 



a great deal of 



Kb gave m< 

irprtsing thai yon improve 

taste, considering where 

r is no danger of your admid ng a:., 
pollen, which might weaken the vigour of vou'r 

I am glad to perceive thai you disda.n liie 

.ur own 

merit as a poet — an affectation which is db> 

i most ostentation by them who 

ban the grratest share of self-conceii, and 

which only adds undeceiving fal< h 

I lh« nir.il 

of your poems would bo arraigning the In. J 
opini I l!" ; 

s 

IM foim. r 
edition, which', 1 Kg Jul will accept as a 



BURNS LETTERS. 



small mark of aiy esteem. It is sent by s< 
to the care of Mr Cree.-h ; and, along w 
tliese four volumes for yourself, I have a 
seut my Medical Sketches, in one volume, ; 
my friend .Airs Dunlop of Dunlop : this j 

chance to pass soon by Dunlop, to give to hi 
I am happy to hear that your subscription 

good fortune that befalls you : for you are a v< 



youngest 



■ngsome 



of your Uallcice'tn into La 

partly proceeds, no doubt, from the cement o: 
Scottish partiality, with which they are al 
somewhat tinctured. Even jow translator, 
•who left Scotland too early in "life for recollec- 

I remain, with great sincerity, 



TO THE EARL OF GLEXCAIRN. 



to purchase a profile of joi 



could I 111'.. 


U 


D SO 


bappy a 


to procure one 


with an, th 




of ali 








As I will 










shades, I want 








iko 




aterial object fo 


my grati'ud 




i «:.;. 




oha 




to say to a frie 


d. -11 






y noble patron 


my generon 


be 


lel'acl 


'• 


a;;. 


w me, my lord 



ship by the honest throe of gratitude, by the 
generous wish of benevolence, by all the powers 
and feelings which compose the magnanimous 

to your lordship ; and what has not in some 
instances always been the ca=e with me, the 
weight of the obligation is a pleasing load. I 
trust, I have a heart as independent as your 

and I would not be beholden "to favours that 
would crucify my feelings. Your dignified 

I would be jealous of the purity of my grateful 
attachment, where 1 was under the patronage 
of one of the much favoured sons of fortune. 



larl,_ 



itrious in their country ; allow 



No. XXI. 
TO THE EARL OF BUCHAN. 

The honour jour lordship has done me, by (on 
notice and adv.ee in yours of the 1st instant, 
shall ever gratefully remember: 

•'Praise from tby lips 'lis mine with joy t< 

1 bey lest can give it who deserve it mot. " 

Your lordship touches the di 



liVOU I 



nothin; 



Itish S. 



e to fire 



Laled.nia, r.-joicing, si;w he. Lloody lion borne 



hese enthusiastic reveres, a long-visaged, dry, 
noral looking phantom strides across my tin . 

vords, " I, 'Wisdom, dwell with prudence. " 



tic muse in "my wonted way at the plougti-lail 
Still, my lord, while the drops of lit.- warm m 

wh:ch 1 boast ni\ bi th, and srratitude to tbos 



draw forth the swelling tear. 



Ext. Property inf. nwur of Mr Robert Burns, 
lo creel and hep up a Headstone in v.etr.ory 
of Pott Fergusson, 1787. 

Session-house, tcithin the Kirk of Ca- 
ncngate, the tuer.ty-second day of Fe- 
bruary, one thousand seien hundred 
and eighty-seven years. 



Which day, the treasurer to the said fund 
produced a letter from Jlr Robert Burns, t 



tpjoinl 



j their 



mot follows: 
"To the honourable Bailies of Canongate, 
Edinbursh. Gentlemen, I am sorry to be told 
that the remains of Robert Fergusson, the so 
justly celebrated poet, a man whose talents, for 

, lie in your church-yard, among the ig- 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



■ liar over the "narrow house" 

Fergusson's memory : ■ tribute I i 
the honour of pajin; 



i, then, Gentlemen, to pe 
unalienable properly to h 

"BOBBBT BURNS. " 



Thereafter the said managers, in considera- 
tion of the laudable and disinterested motion of 
Mr Burns, and the propriety of hU rnju-=t, 
did, and hereby do, unanimously grant powet 
. :o the said Robert Burns to erect 



keep up and preserve the s 



h of the records of 



and yet never pulling pen to paper to say — 



unaccountable at 



feeble efforts ai 



rul, 



e, there is nothing in the 

it thing called conscience. 
a yelping cur powers effi- 
misch.et. he might be of 
rming of the bu a ;ue-s, his 

i!dst the I T.'er native cuo- 
in the very vortex of our 

nleruiining miscellany, 
'I he proM extract is 



literally as Mr Sprutt I 

The Intcription on the Stone is as /Mows : 
1IKRE LIES BOBBBT FERGUSSON, 

I 
. 177*. 

\ ealpturad marble here, nor pompons lay, 
Ira nor animal. .1 but ; " 

To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dj.-t. 



" By special grant of the Managers to Roll t 
Burns, who erected this stone, this I ■ 
is to remain for ever sacred to the memory us 
Robert Fergusson. " 



EXTRACT OF 



o. XXIV. 

l LETTER FROM - 



8th Mi 
I am truly happy to know you ba>c found a 

friend iu J his patronage of you does 

him great honour. He is truly a good man ; 
bv far the best I ever knew, oi. perhaps, ever 
shall know, in this world. Bat I must o- t 
speak all I think of him, le 3 t 1 should be 

So you have obtained liberty from the ma- 
been, as Shakspearesays," in the olden-time:" 
"The poet's fate, is here in emblem shown, 

It is, I believe, upon poor Butler's tomb 
that this is written. But how many brothers 
of Parnassus, as well cs poor Butler and poor 
Fergussoo, have asked for bread, and been 



rjl- 



a pence 



time absolutely st 



orks. But then it 

a worth, at lea^t one-third of 

el afterwards very ungratefully expunged, 
n Edinburgh ; and as ray stay will 



e for eight 



r'tlfa the Duchess of 



snug, well-aired bedroom for 
>ay have the pleasure of seeing 
jrning cup of lea. But by all 
II be a matter of some difficulty 
II, unless vour company is be- 
beforehand. There is a great 
icerning your great intimacy 



are resolved to make bay while the sun shines, 
and avoid, if possible," the fate of poor Fer- 

Viurirnrfa pe- 

cunia primum est, virtus post mtuwi, is a good 
maxim to thrive by ! you seemed to de>pi»e it 
while in this country ;* but probably some phi- 
lo ophet iu Edinburgh has taught you belter 







BURNS 


LETTERS. 




93 


lit I must give up this trifl 

Aberdeen wit says, adieu 
ik phun we meet.* 


„.".,, 


attend 
tie' sal 


character : but 
steely lort to 


.here God an 
fare of others 

e far gone in 
reflection, wb 


1 nature have 

om these "con- 


Nj. XXV. 








I guess that I 
that'sum I IntS 


unds by my au 
d, so far as I 


EkKS 



TO MRS DUNLOP. 

MADAM, Edinburgh, March 22, 17S7. 
ery little 



■n pride of m 



>, I had sc 



■ 
>w 1 am 
by you. 



myself" 7 The" 



: Earl of Gl 

? me bis 'slri 
impropriety oi 



'• Dark as was chaos, 
Was roll 'd together 
Athwart the gloom 

The appellation of 
my highest pride ; to 

Scottish story are th 

my"power, unplagued 
cess, for which he 
enough, to make leisu 
Caledonia ; to sit on 


, oi had tried his beams 
a Scottish bard is by far 


MADAM, Edinburgh, 15(/t J 
There is an affectation of gratitu 
dislike. The periods of Johnsc 
pauses of Sterne may hide a selfish 


iou. Scottish scenes and 

themes I could wish to 

er aim than to have it in 

with the routine of tusi- 

rely pi'.jr.mages through 
the iields of her bam, ; ; 


" Rude am I in speech, 
And therefore little can I crace n 
In speaking for myself—" 


and to muse by the 


"lately towers^ vene- 


so I shall not trouble you with any 



But these are all Utopian thoughts : I hav< 



equally tend 


r. Where 


II 


e" 


udU 


dual 


onh 


suffers bv the 


consequen 
leiice, or f 


;:■ 


\! 


!,:v 


bo, 






hilling abi 










i ll.e 


nobler virtu 


s, may h 


■ii- 


an 


tify 


1 he 


edless 


*Theabov 


e extract is 


frc 


m« 


left 


rof 


>neof 


the ablest ot 






cr.de 
















'.{ F 












■ hr. 






inserted, if 


hey could h 




tec 








The writer i 














tratesofEdi, 


burgh had 


": 


ti:'. 


e:n' 


-e'r 


: v c 



ly only, enjc 

lie serious bu 
"g my ploug 



chief, someti 
nt. If my 
mil have prill 

is of life : bu 



No. XXVI. 
TO THE SAMI 



between Burns and the Kirk Session of the I 
nongate. Neither at Edinburgh, nor any wh 



Wednesday. Your orders I shall punctually 
attend to ; only, by the way, 1 must tell you 
that I was paid before for Dr Moore's and 
Miss W. s copies, through the medium of 
Commissioner Cochrane in this place ; but that 



No. XXVII. 

TO DR MOORE. 

Edinburgh, 23d April, 1787. 
the books, and sent the one von 
to Mrs Dunlop. I am ill-skilled 

j Adam Smith. 



I IHUAHV. 



in beating the coveit- of imagination 'or i 
phors of gratitude. 1 thank jou, sir, l< 
honour you have douc me; and lo mj 
hour »ill warmly remember i(. 'lo be li 

volumes as a mark of the auili < 
esteem, is a still more supreme gratification. 
1 leave Ldmburgh in the course of len dajs 



many intimacies and friendships here, but lair 
ni'raid they are all of loo lender a coiistrucuoi 
to bear carriugc a hundred and lift t miles. Ti 
tiie rich, the great, the f.tsh.oiiable, the polite, 
I haie no equivalent to oiler ; and 1 am ulruid 
my meteor appearance will by no means 
title me lo a settled correspondence with 
of jou, who are the permanent lights of g. 



No. XXVIII. 

V A letter 

TO MBS DTJNLOP. 

EdusottrgA, 30th April, 1787. 
Your eriti isms, Mi m, I understand 

, „,.d could huve.wsi.cd lo have pleas- 
ed you belter, loii are r.gl.t in your guess 
that 1 am not very amenable lo Co 

who possessed the adventitious qualities of 

llaller no created being either in prose or 

1 set a6 little by , lords, clergy, cri- 
tics, Ate. in all these respectivi 
my hardship. I know "hat 1 may c 
I ruin the world by and by — illiberal ubuse 
perhaps contemptuous neglect. 

lam happy, Madam, that some of tny own 
favourite pieces are distinguished by your pat 
ticular approbation, lor my Hieiim, wine 
lins unfortunately incurred your loyal disple:< 



urjtet, Edinburgh, W 
iuburgh i. . -in.. ii. >i. 



e nbo are truly benefactors 



patronage, and friendship yon have shown mr, 

te embarrassment of o ■ 
situatiou ; drawn forth from the veriest shades 
of life lo the glare of remark ; and honoured 
b] Hie notice of those illu-trioiu names of my 
country, whose works, while Ibey aie applaud'- 
ed to the end of time, will ever instruct and 
mend the heart. However the meteor-like 
novelty of my appearance in the ■ 

lights of geuiu. 
"Tuly benefaclon 

well, that my utmost merit was far unequal to 
the task of preserving that character when once 
I have made up my 
mind, that abuse, or almost even neglect, will 
not surprise me in my quarters. 

I ba»e sent jou a proof impression of Beu- 

go'l work for me, douc on Indian paper, as a 

iuouj with what he-rt- 



Nb. xxx. 
FEOit mi fji_ua. 

-re, Edinburgh, 4./. ■ 

I was favoured this forenoon with 

: r, together with an impression of 

■hanks. The success you batvmet 
not think was beyond jour merits ; and if I 
have had any small hand iu contributing lo it, 
it gives me great pleasure. 1 koow no way iu 
wh eh literary persous, who are advanced in 
do more service to the world, than 



bringing form uusiiuwu merit irom obscurity. 
I was the nrsl person who brought out to the 
nuiice of the world, the poems ol V 
by the Fragment* tf Ancient For.'ry which I 
publishedi and afterwords, by my setting on 
foot the uodi i and I nJ LisJ - 

i.ig ibe HWl, W Uisuri; and 1 have slwaw 

:l.is as a m.iiloru.us acliou ot m , 

Your situation, as you say, was indeed very 
singular ; and. in being brought out all at 
onci Irom the shades of deepest privacy, lo so 
eat a share of public notice and ota— a ■■lillll. 
u bad to stand a severe trial. I am happy 
hi you have stood it so well ; and as far as 1 
ve known or heard, though in the midst of 
in] tempi uiioiis, without reproach lo jour 

yourself Ibero wnh industry, prudence, and 
honour. You haw laid the louudaiiou Kr 
jiisl public esteem. in the uiul.t . I 

■ 
I....I. tl.-.l . ...iir genu,.. 

Le not 111 too great a haatl I 



burns — LETr::;: ;. 



doubt, a gloss of novelty which time wears i 
As yoa very properly hint yourself, you 
not to be surprised if, in \our rural retreat, ; 
do not find yourself surrounded with that gl 



n ■ U 



himself to publ 


c observation, will 




attacks of illiber 


which it is alw 


ys best to overlook 


He will be incl 


ned sometimes to c 


and to disappe 


ar from public vien 






per seasons come forth with mor 




He will not think 


glected if he b 


not always prais 




y, you see, of an 




d make reflections 




will, I dare say. r 








ion your being- j 


leave town, yo 




to Durafriesshir 






ily wish the offers 


you there ma 


answer; as I an 



than all his other writings. But nothing now 
added is equal to your Vision and Cotter's 
Saturday Night. In these are united fine ima- 
gery, natural and pathetic description, with 
sublimity of language and thought. It is evi- 
dent that you ulready possess a great variety of 

guage ; you ought, therefore, to deal more 
sparingly for the future, in the provincial dia- 
lect: — why should jou, by us" 



and the Scottish, whe 



some larger work than any you h: 
tempted. I mean, reflect upon 

without beginning to execute any 
you have siudied most of the 



vho under- 
spend it to 
the English 
hould plan 



)f Mr Miller's Greek and Roman 

a persuaded 
jou will not easily find a more 
belter hearted proprietor to live l 
Miller. When you return, if ; 
way, I will be happy to see you 

concerning your future plans of life. You rningly fan 
u 'ie22doftt : 



my house iu tugjic ^uut, »«i ■»- « >.«"» 

Edinburgh, near the Musselburgh road. W 
ing you all success and prosperity, I am, v 



HUGH BLAIR. 

No. XXXI. 
FROM DR MOORE. 

Clifford Street, May 23, 1737- 



1 had the p 






r by Mr ( 



a receipt; and Lord Eilinl 



nself, as 



to give five of them in 
Some of the poems 
last edition are beauti: 
ter Night, the Addre 
grow Vie Hashes, anc 
a'.s-ly fouowing ; the _ . 

By the way, I imagine you 
- u -impositions, 



mlarlv the Win- 
inburgh. Green 






it for such c 



ing allu» 

t.-elf is c! 

modernhi " 



that is, the history of France and Gri 
Britain, from the beginning of Henry t 
Seventh's reign. I know very well you have 

am certain you are capable of 



ind I 
generally done. 



make no apology, when you do write, for hav- 
ing postponed it ; be assured of this, however, 
that I shall always be happy to hear from you. 

I think my friend Mr told me that you 

had some poems in manuscript by you of a 
satirical and humorous nature (in which, b . 
the way, I think you very strong,) which your 



I understand you intend to take a farm, and 
make the useful and respectable business of 



au'd clay biggin, Virgil, before you, proved to 



o the accuracy of Dr Moore'e judg- 



DIAMOND CABINET LII1RAI1 



No. XXXII. 
FROM MR JOHN" HUTCHINSON. 



engaged with Mr Douglas of Port Anionic fn 
three years, at lliirlv pound, tailing a-vear 
and am happy some' unexpected accidents in 
tervened that prevented your sailing w ith th 



hopes your 

cirnenyou h; 

country. I, 
to think of cc 



lo'l.ear Iroi 



it all convenient opportuni 
a copy of the other editioi 



Invernru, 51 
il lime to will 



is extempore, for I b 



would allow. It eases an heart a good Ural, 
as rhyme is the coin with which a poet prys 
his debts of honour or gratitude. AN hat I owe 
to the noble family ol Atbole, of the first ki.d, 
I shall ever proudly Loast ; what 1 owe of lha 
last, so help me tiod iu mjr hour of need, I 
bhall never fcrget. 

Ihe little "angel band ! "—I declare I 

KSl of ^an. em i T Sll" e T«r 7 for 6 e» , th e l Ena 

family-piece I saw at Blair ; the u 

truly uoble Duchess, with her 6inning little 



jU -i.,»! M> Lord Duke's kind ho 
arkedly kind. indeed- Mr G.of P_ 
is of conversation- Sir \N . M_ 



No. XXXIV. 

TO MR GILBERT BURNS. 

EdtiiAurgA, 17/ASept 1787. 

IT DEAR BROTHER, 

rived here sale yesterday evening, after 



here I had the honour of spi 
ag nearly two dn\s with his Grace and I 
••■rough a wild a 



trv, among clitls'gruv with el 
gloomy sav.ige glens, .1 

went iluun the stream 11 : 

famous in Scottish music, Uadenoch, &tc. till 
1 reached Grant Castle, where 1 spent half a 
Jay with Sir James Grant and family , 
and then crossed the country for I . 
but called by the wav ut Cawdor, the anri.nl 
li ; there I saw ihe identical ltd 
in which, tradition UJI, ktas Duncan was 
murdered : lastly, from I 



lb* same year 
H as I can : 



BURNS LETTERS. 



weeks. The rest of my stages are 
reh--arsing; warm as I was froi 
country, where I had s 






with the Dnke, Duchess, and family. I am 

means of JohnRonald, 

hear farlhi 
My duty, 



j also Omcron Cameron, which s« 

thin": to delight the public in di 

might U he VariedT'eSended', 

part of a pastoral comedy. A, 
mieht have kept Omeron at hoi 



, 1 . l 






north, t 
lirth fc 



ler.^and m^bro:h-rly cumpii- 
likely to be snt 



cessful. — FarewelL 



No. XXXV. 

FROM MR R 

sik, Ochlerlyrc, 22d October, 1787. 

Twas only yesterday I got Colonel Edmon- 
stoune's answer, (hat neither the words of 
Dmcn the bum, Z)jnV,_ nor Dzinty Dav,j, (I 

Co"'n^r'G." (.':-'i"f..rd! Next tint I meet 

talents. 

Inclosed are the inscriptions you requested, 







TEN IN 


176S 




FOR THE SAL 


ICTUM 


AT 


OCHTER- 






TYRE. 








Salubritatis 

He 

Palud 

Mihi meisq 

Hie, procu 




sque causa, 

ii'dam, 

strepituque, 




Silvulas int 


[abo a reTs 


S 


ndi, ' 


Cu 


Hie, si faxit Deus opt. rr 

m quodam juventutis amico 
Sa-pe conqu.escam, sene 


uperstite, 



Talete, diuquelstan 
t Salietam—Grove of Will 



simplicity and kindness^ . . .A 




the plot, might be formed from his fan) 


lyT'or 


some neighbouring one of rank. It is 




nan of 






which he is engaged, of much importan 




less to call forth the exercise of generos 




faithfulness, grafted on patriarchal hosp 


tali iv. 


To introduce state affairs, would ra 


se the 


style above comedy; though a small s 


pice of 


them would season the converse of 




Upon this head I cannot say more that 




commend the study of the character of E 


umiEus 


ENGLISHED. 




To improve both air ar.d soil, 




I drain and decorate this plantation of w 


Hows, 


Which was lately an unprofitable mo 




Here far from noise and strife, 








Now fondlv markins the progress of m 




New studying the bee, its arts and ma 




Here, if it please Almighty God, 




May I often rest in the evening of 1 


fe, 






With some surviving friend of my yo 


Uh; 














And life draws near a close, 




Ye trees and friends, 




And whatever else is dear, 




Farewell, and long may ye fiouris 




ABOVE THE DOOR OF THE HOUSE. 


WKITTEN IN 1775. 




"" PropeTaichi roarginem, * ' 




Avito in agello, 




Bene \ivere fausteque mori '. 




ENGLISHED. 




On the banks of the Teith, 




In the small but sweet inheritan 




Of mv fathers. 




May I and mine live in peace, 
And die in joyful hope ! 




These inscriptions, and the translati 


ns, are 


in t e hand- v. r: '.v,z of Xr R . 




This gentleman"; if still alive, wi 


1, it is 


hoped, excuse the liberty taken by the u 




editor, in enriching the correspond 


nee of 


Burns with his excellent letter, and v 


-ith in- 


scriptions so classical and so interestin 





...I.SET LIDIIAKY. 

r Pope's Iran 1- 
aluable drawn. • 



discovery ; an. 
reward of ho* 



rs of ihe pre icnt da;. 



thought of a plot, and brought the story into 
form, Dr BUcklook, or Mr H. Mackenzie. 



"uhout"" 



I approve of jou 
/uflL-ient to tiud e: 



Upon this subject, i 
ndntirtr. permit me to 
those bright tnlen's v 



..-...:.•.- 



uniVraio m;- •, 
id and body, 



good morals may be recommended in a cum.-.!) , 

to the heat and inexperience of youth j — and 
few poets can boast, like Thomson, of never 

lv',u'lTwi"!''<''"h!<,r 'in'". rl'l'ul'Vr ''rivl'li'lu., 

supposed to extend the slips and weaknesses of 

of faith, serious and excellent men have always 
differed) and taero aro certain eoi 

One, which may afford scope to men of (a. 

hjsical heads, but seldom mend Ihe heart or 



temper. Wh.is 
ken, it Is '• 






lefoi 



is a pity ibi 

Mi.elly. II, r ..■ , |. •.,„,. „ „|lhe mm- 

. a In n lu..|.i. 

ii l.iie ami plain l.iniiliire. t shall 
In- t'lad lo he II In. in , 



( TALE OF OMBBON 
ie of Ihe ware betwi 



Isles. Aliunde. 



Stewart, Earl of Mi 

ter iu Ibe Jteenth century), and Donald 

art, Earl of Caithness, had the comm. 



y marched iulo Loehaber, 



:o.nmanded by Donald 11 
in arm of the sea which intersects that councry. 
Having lim'lj inlellifenco of Ibeir approach, 
he insurgents got ell' precipitately totbeoppo- 



The Earl of Mar escaped in tbc dark, with- 
out any attendants, and made to 
h ill j pari of ihe couniry. In the e i 
liitrtil he came to Ihe bouse of a poor mon, 

was Otncron Cam- 1 
landlord welcomed his guest with the utmost 
kindness : but, as there was no meat in Ihe 
I his w.fe he would directly k.ll 
.Wool Odhar,i 10 feed the siranger. 
only co" ! " said sh», " Our own a' 
children's principal support!" More alten- 
tive, bowever.lo the present call for • 

lu.-'u're". xC-i '.■.' ."."'t hu'familj! be killed the 
cow. The best and tenderesl perls were ho. 
mediately roasted before the lire, end 
innirich, or Highland soup, prepared lo con- 
clude their meal The whole family and their 



U Of U 



I ul In 






hearth, sp-i 
Karl wrapped his plaid 



• - i rigs be- 

r'to He down.' "IS 
ibout him, and slept 



Ifheki 

kind's ollieers ; 

to protect yen. 
iten," replied 



■ning they had a plentiful Ires 
leparture his Rues! asked 0*1 
hIioiu be had enierlained t ' 



i.e. Is.,1 



' 



stranger," s 



TURNS. —LETTERS. 



Nj. XXXVL 

FROM ME W , 

ilhole House, 13lh Septemler, 



lisappointrnent on being forced to le; 
3 great as appeared from jour e 3 
his is the best consolation for the gi 

me'd indi 



you proposed, 
before a letter 
~ "ope jour 



which lost me a day's en- 
(I speak without flattery), 
,-ery dispositions and talents 



likewise 
in you ; 

nil off a 



esource"^. 


One 


.f lie 


:n 


ants wa 


r driver t 








en or p 


e from on 


eof hi 






ut the 


ed. Pre 




n '. ' '1 1 


ed 




Me. Y 






g> 






dunk 


will p 






ct.* They prod 


uceda 




erful oi 


ely ; for 


he mo 


r.ing a 














e Brua 


e of the 1 


_ha,h 


j'l :rU 


.!.'. 






.rain 


't ^ 




u/unr 


sages we 












tr^ts. 


t":V til 


hi 


jh fall, 



p.p, 



Ui-Ii:: 



been the Earl's host, and forced bim to fly the 
country. He came with his wife and children 

admittance with a confidence which hardly 
corresponded with his habit and appearance. 
The porter told him, rudely, his Lordship was 
at dinner, and must not be disturbed. He be- 
-. and importunate: at last his name 
was announced. Upon hearing that it was 
Omeron Cameron, the Earl started from his 

poetical stanza, " I was a night in his house, 
and fared most plentifully ; but naked of 
clothes was my bed. Omeron from Breugach 
is an excellent fellow!" He was intra ' 
into the gTeat hall, and received with the 
come he deserved. L'pon hearing how hi 



still in the country a number of Camexous 
scended of this Highland llumffius. 

* The humble Petition of Eniar-Wale 
tee Duke of Alhole. 






:-. i.iosi d 
it deny myself the plea! 



fusion of her gratitude, invited us in. 
and I, that we might not hurt her de- 
entered— but, good God, what wrelch- 



;ature stood perfectly silent— looked at Miss 
then to the money, and burst into tears— 
iss C. joined her, and, with a vehemence of 
isibility, took out her purse, and emptied it 
:o the old woman's lap. AVhat a charming 



Two days after you left us, 1 1 



ad the fall of the hermitage, 
elight. But I think the last 



Led. TneyappeMtomi 



lit friends, which many of us are a 
"When you pay your promised vi 



5 tie pleasure t 
of Bestu Bell 
their posses: 



Duchess would giv^y coi . . 
titer sight of your letter to Dr M. 



extremely happy to hear from you 
leisure. Inclose your letter in a ™ 
dressed to the Duke of Athole, Dnukelc 



jg it for her. 
tal friend ')r 
, I shall be 



: l iiskaio 



No. XXXVII 



just arrived from abroad. I had yoi 
ut into mj hands : the pleasure 1 n 
l reading them, has iudu<v-d me I 
,ur liberty to pablujh Ir. 



I be a treat of sue 
e an injury to jo 



air fa' your pen, my dainty Rob, 
Your leisom way o' writing, 

glowring o'er your warks, I sob, 
i i?nt peeing 



Whiles li 
V.ursoi.sit 

Their wo 
Hut guid Scotch 






Poor Mai 

Vedid 

To leave 



?, fc-olh, I'll nae but think. 



Hex dying words upbraid ye s 

liuid failh gin J 

This deed h.->d stretch d vou 
That uioui 



•g me, how dare fin' faui 

eat an' sum's begun to dai 
ak him by thegardie: 
>a ouy lawland ehiel. 



It's fair to praise ilk a 



Free Jock o' Croats lo bonny Tweed, 

.1 .• '. II I.. III. line, 
1„ ilk.l plu.T when Xc.l.-hmell bleed. 



I 



Some work of wordic mak, 

Uul'now my farewell l.k ; 

- 
till prayer I do my. ell indite. 
From yours still, A M 



No. XXXVDX 

FROM .MR J. BAMBAY, 
10 THB 

REV W. YOUNG, AT ERsKlNE. 



poems, 1 dare say, have given you much 

his works, in which there U a rich vein of 
intellectual ore. He has beard some of our 
Highland luimgt or songs played, which 
delighted him so much that be has made 
words to one or two of them, which will ren- 
der these more popular. As he has thought of 
being in your quarter, I am persuaded you 

of nature with a sample of those sweet artless 
uieludies, winch only want to be married I in 
.Milton's phrase) to congenial words. I w.,h 
we could conjure up the ghost of Joseph M'D. 
lo infuse into our bard a portion of his enthu- 
siasm for those neglected airs, which do not 
suit the fastidious musicians of il 
hour. Hut if it be true til 
looked on as the He 

ever, is going out of my prov 

Mae 'irArigit and. if he « 
words, 1 do not despair of see 
sung upon the stage, in lb. 



of music, 
r taste ; - i! 



] am very sorry we are likely lo meet so sel- 
ooe of the 



or beat ng up >our c 
andMylne, 



■l.-l. I.llllell..,,,. of hi. 

Your most obedient buml 



o Messrs liuug 
, give him • billet 



No. XXXIX. 



BURNS — LETTERS. 

of Edinburgh. We frequently 1 

verses in our Caledonian 

may believe, that I am nol 



MR RAMSAY TO DR BLACKLOCK. 

Ochtertyre, 27th October, 17S7. 

1 received yours by Mr Burns, and give you 



re. He 
will, I doubt not, let you know what passed 
between us on the subject of my hints, to which 






a man of his 
:tofmyh 






You may tell Mr Burns, when you see him, 
that Colonel Edmonstoune told me t'other day, 
that his cousin, Colonel George Crawford, was 
ao poet, but a great singer of songs ; but that 
his eldest brother Robert (by a former mar- 
riage) had a great turn that way, having writ- 

::;u [ii,- v,.rj= .■■ r ..-i; .' - _ .-. : 

Ftaeeddde. That the Mary to whom it was 
addressed was Mary Stewart of the Castlemilk 
family, afterwards wife of Mr Johu Relches. 
The Colonel never saw Robert Crawford, 

He was a pretty young man, and had lived long 
in France. Lady Ankerville is his niece, and 

■ - 

effusions But I have hardly room to offer my 

best compliments to Mrs Blacklock ; and I am, 
Dear Doctor, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 
RAMSAY. 



FROM MB JOHN MURDOCH. 

London, 28th October, 1787. 

my friend.Mr Brown, is going from this place 
:o your neighbourhood, I embrace the oppor- 



- , 


a which we are he 


re engaged, that we 


seldom th 






thing, th 


t is absent. But 






with me ; for I c 


ften think of you, 


,i«j 'ii'- 


ie, and Russel, 


and an umfathomed 


depth, a 






pose) at a 


lthough you and they are (as I sup- 
considerable distance. I Hatter my- 


self, how 


ever, with the pie 




you and 


shall meet some 




: Scotk 


nd or England. 


If ever vou come 


hither, j 


u will have the sa 


tisfaction "of seeing 


jour poems relished bv t 


he Caledonians in 


^cndoa, 


full as much as it 





you were the author, till a few days ago, whei 
I made a visit tu Mrs Hill. l)r M'Comb's eldes 

that she was informed of it by a letter from hei 
sL-ter in Edinburgh, with whom you had beet 
in company when in that capital. 

Pray let me know if you have any intentioi 
of visiting this huge, overgrown metropolis : 
It would afford matter for a large poem. Hen 

your vein in the study of mankind, perhaps ti 

a greater degree than in an>- city u: 

~c .l,„ -i„k~ . c — ,u„ :„l.„i.;.„...^ ~c T — A — „ 



Present my respectful c 



Binds from your earliest infancy ! May you 

:-'. I - .' .:■■■': :■-■■'•■..-■. ;.i 



.11 only add, that it is one of 
more than that of any person :1 



JOHN MURDOCH. 

No. XLI. 

FROM MR 

Gordon Castle, 31rf October, 1787. 
not sensible of your fault as well 

mont at least ; and as for Dick 
him nought but Stra'bogis cc-io'i..':.: 



the production of Di 



to a Mrs M'Pherson 
io sings Morag and all other 
great perfection. I have re- 



I IB1NE1 J.Ii HAUV. 






hand safely, and, if s 

coier, il will likewise vouie „„, , 

long as ibe Duke is in tins country. 

I am, Sir, jour* lineerdj. 



No. XL 1 1. 

FROM THE REV. JOHN SKINM R. 

BIB, L'mtharl, Kovcmhtr \Uk, 17S7. 

mark Oclober 25lh, came lo mj hand only 
this day; and, Co testify my punciu in;, to mi 

Your acknowledgment o 



niv poo 


but just encomiums on your sur 




us, and your opinion of my rhy 




ns, ore both, I think, by far too 1 




erence between our two tracts ol 




id the ways ot life is entirely in 


laiour, 


^•ra^ESrssHL 1 



proves and nssi-ls'ii ; and thnncli. 

these meet, there may sometimes be ground 

for approbation, yet where taste appears single, 

hi acquisition, 1 will always sustain the jus- 
tice ol its prior claim to applause. A small 

I nun childhood, .specially in (lie old Scottish 

my fondue-, lor l'.m.-'V l.i'i: o' Ihe Grviie, 

"urn "into Vat i'n" icrs.V Hk"i ii'as\'ou"g,'l 
dabbled a good deal in these things ; but, on 
petting the black gown, 1 gave it pretty much 
over, till nil daughters grew up, who, being 
all good singer-, pl.igued me lor words to some 



there ia nothing to be found in 
• eristic, or unbecoming the 
would always wish lo see resp 

and you, perhap., expect. My daughters, 
who were mi only inleliigenci ■ . 

lost thai t.i I : im mi own 

pen, which I n.i: l.t giie you, if worth tin 
while. I to the old Scutch tune of Dum- 

i. It *u iquw .-.a out of me bj ■ 

I lolhel | i.i hood, to 'ac- 

commodate a new Highland reel for the .Mar- 






If this last answer jour purpose, you may 

Skinner, writer in Edinburgh, who, I Ul.evr, 
can pne the music too. 

heard said to be done by the Call 
I.e. 'dee, and which hit my lute much : 

" There was a wee wifeikic wu coming frae 

Had got a little drapikie, which bred her 

It took upo' ibe wifie'f heart, and 

And, quo' the wee wifeikie, I wish 1 biuna 



I have heard of another new composition, by 
a young ploughman of my acquaintance, that 
I am vastly pleased with, to the tune of The 
humouri if Glen, which 1 fear won't do, as the 



in band, and which 1 wish all success lo. 
You have only lo noiify your mind, and what 
you want of the above shall be sent 

Meantime, while you are thus publicly, I 
may say, employed, do not shealh your owu 

have seen of yours already, I am inclined lo 
hope for much pood. One les-on of virtue and 
morality, delivered in your amusing style, and 

,i - would UoVrom such as n.e, who shall be 

being one of the niany, what comes will be'ad- 
mircd. Admiration will produce Kf 
regard will leave an impression, especially 
when example goes along. 

Now binna saving I'm ill bred, 

I : i my troth, I'll not be glad; 

- 

And si- 

Mnun aye be barland in - 

And sae maul. I. 

Wishing you from my poet pen, 



No, \LI1I. 

FROM Mils j 

K 1 CMfc. 30/ \ \ 

. bo| •• you will do me ll. 

| .Mis ttuss ol Kilratoek, N'ailnthicc. 



BURNS.— LETTERS. 



punctual performance of your parting promise, 
(hat has made me so long in acknowledging it, 
but merely the difficulty I had in getting the 



To her I am indebted fc 
notes. They are clothe, 
breathe, *nd icords that 



laturallyofasnper: 



is and resumed its functions, I 

i this mania of yours inightpor- 
boding ideas had the wide stretch 

le, and important in their cou- 
jrred to my fancy. The down- 
ave, or the crushing of the cork 
il coronet to Lord George G 



I of Glen 



a gentleman 
c me by the 



That the old castle of K — 

satisfaction. I am even va 

Addiso^ ; fla at er a.'5 raTe'l 
that "frie'nc!ship will mail 
has occupies "in both our 



ns, with a goodness like that benevolent be- 
;, whose image he so richly bears. He is a 
anger proof of the immortality of the soul, 

and like his can never die. Let the worship- 
il squire, H. L. or the reverend -Mass J. -M. 
. > into their primitive nothing. At best they 
are but ill-digested lumps of chaos, only one of 
i strongly tinged with bituminou, particles 
and sulphureous effluvia. But my noble patron, 



No. XLV. 
TO MRS DUXLOP. 



ieofu = 



; y° n 






ried .Mr Burns from us 
Farewell, sir. I can o 
to the estee 



by your merits and genius, but this I give, as lor i would not Cake in anj poor, ignorant 

she did, with all my heart— being sincerely wretch, bailing out. Lately I was a six- 

yours, penny private; and, God knows, a miserable 

E. R. soldier enough ; now I march to the campaign, 



DEAR SIR, Edinburgh, 1787. ! will be, I suppose, about the middl 

I suppose the devil is so elated with his success week, Ilea*e Edinburgh, and soon al 
with you, that he is determined by a coup de pay my grateful duty at Dunlop-Hou 
main to complete his purposes on' you all at | 



setf they were v< 



well: 



ce:up..r : 



;aidtomy- 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, 



No. \L\I. 

/l LKTTER. 
TO THE SAME. 
Edinburgh, ISth February, 
Some things in your lata letters, hurl mi 
that you toy them, but that you mitlu 
Religion, uiy honoured Madam, has uc 
been ail my life my chief dependence, b 
dearest enjoyment, I have indeed been th< 
less victim of wayward follies; but a 
have ever been " more fool than knave 
mathematician without religion, U a 
ble character ; an irreligious poet, is u 




>a describes him ; and though I 

of it myself, I cannot endure it in others. 
You, my honoured friend, who cannot appear 
in any light, but you are sure of being respec- 
table — you can afford to pass by an occasion to 
displ.iy your v.it, because you may depend for 

you know you can rely on the gratitude of 

man] and the esleem of all ; but Ood help us 

who are wits or witlings by profe sion, if we 

stand not for fum.- lliere, we sink unsupported ! 

1 am highly Haltered by the news you tell me 

of Coila.* 1 may »ay to the fuir painter who 

lich honour, a» I)r tfeattie says to 

Ross the poet, of bis Muse Sco'.ia, from which, 

. I took the idea of Coila : (Tia a 

in tne Scuts dialect, which 

perhaps you bu.c never scon :) 

" Ye shake your bead, but o' mj 

. , 1 ibe lien wi' I urfs and 
Bombazed . 



No. XLMU. 

: 



Liolloway and Ayrshire, it being Sunday, 1 
uroed my thoughts to psalms, and bymns, and 
ipiriinal songs ; and your favourite air. Captain 
J'Kcan, coming at length in my bead, 1 tried 
hese words to it. You will tee that the fiat 



part of 
as I ha 

v.;i,> 


tolerably pi 
e only ask 


tch of the tune, I Isara ii 
ey suit the measure of the 










I am so harass* 
about thi farming 

wench that ever pic 

of business. 1 thai 


d with care and anxiety 
project of mine, that my 

ked cinders, or followed a 

trouble j on with a longer 


epittle 


perhaps w 


th some queries 





N . XLLX. 

FHOM MR ROBERT CLEGUORN. 

Saughton 3IMs, 27(A April, I7BB. 

MV I>EAR BROTHER FARMER, 

was favoured with your very kind letter of the 
1st ult. and consider myself greatly obliged to 
on, for your attention in sending me ihe snag 
> my favourite air, Captain O'Kean. The 
lords delight me much ; ihey fit the tune to a 



9 no objeclio 



; and if you have 

<\ by may nol l sing in 
if her greatgreal.greal grandson ?f 






ong, as it 






is afterwords finish - 



THE CHEVALIERS LAMENT. 
e small birds rejoice in Ihe green leaves re- 
e murmuring streamlet winds clear thro 



The hawtl 

dale 


altered con slips 


i the dews of tl 
bedeck the grit 


lair. 
While ihe 


a give pleasure 
tigering momenli 


are numbered b 




gaily springing, 


nor birds sweet 


he isd bosom ol | 



Any skill I have in ton 
Firmer Attention is a pood 



BURNS.— LETTERS. 

business yon ] Dryden, anc 



ROBERT CLEGHORN. 



No. LI. 
FROM THE REV. JOHN SKINNER. 

S.B 5IR, Linshart, 2SUi April, 1788. 



No. L. 
TO MRS DUNLOP. 



ie great 



eally nut guilty- As I 



,.ce urine 
ie„ 1 niu-i 

and at any 
,rt for a p 



s in a ploughman of twenty years of a! 
farmer grandfather's tireside, though now, 1 



hich 



him down from the little emii 
she has lately helped him up. 

For this reason, I am at present attending 



is only mitigated by be 
mberless apertures in th 

anday, and part of Toes 
t of bed, with all the mi 



t CHARMING NANCY. 



ig sifted through 

was on Sunday', 
lay unable to stir 



You see, madam, the truth of the French 

semolaltU ; your last was so full of expostula- 
tion, and was something so like the language 
of an offended friend, that I began to tremble 

ful pleasure set down as one of the gr 
enjoyments of my future life. 

Your books have delighted me; Virgil, 



The deed that 



Tune — " Humours of Glen- " 

>' Nelly, 

And some call sweet Susie the cause of their 

Some love to be jolly, some love melancholy, 
And some love to sing of the Humours of 
Glen. 
But my only fancy, is my pretty Nancy, _ 

Inciting my pa.-slon, I II ,-trive to be plain, 
I'll ask no more treasure, I'll seek no more 
pleasure 
But thee, my dear Nancy, gin thou wert my 

Her pleasant behaviour is free from all stain ; 
"herefore, my sweet jewel, O do not prove 

Consent, my dear Nancy, and come be my 



But 'tis not my sufferings thus wretched, for- 
My brave gall rain I mourn ; 



She's blooming in feature, she's handsom 
ftfj charming dear Nancy, O wert thou 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAHV. 



You will • 



Ikshank, irlu 



Her bright eyes arc sparkling, I 

Her yellow locks shining in beauty 
.My charming, 
mi sin ? 
I he whole of bet face is with mail 



■ lie's well shaped and »! 
Mj charming, sweet > 



icy, O w 



my dear from the cold, snow, and 

to my deary, I'll keep her oy< 
cry, 
ing, sweet Nancy, gin thou wen 

tofurnishthydw.il t,g, 
•. 'Mai thy life to sustain j 

n thee, Nancy, when thou ui my 
le affection the constant direction 



llio' youlh will 

lasting, 

My charming 



Nancy, gin thou wen 
if my Nancy should alter her fancy. 



THE OLD MAN'S SONG. 

Tunc — " Dumbarton'* Drums. ' 

Bv tiih Reverend J. Skinner. 

I'! why shoiihl old iirc so much wound us, C 
Then is nothing in *i all to confound us, l 
For how happ) now am I, 
H'ith my old wile silting by. 

W« began in the world wi' mi. > 
And we've jogg'd on, and tuil'd for the a 
thing, ii ; 

- we had, 

And our thauklul h . 
Whan w. got Ibl bit meat and the eluill 

i ol I'iii;, 



dabbler in Latin 
tat I won 
is judgmi 



v r « I ''■•'■'•. . 
UJ I bate likewise 



,t hi . 



of CAnsl'j A'trto' (Ac 

id at Aterdeen tome years ego; 
the other Datracficmycmachia II 
rertibut cum additomratii, given in lately to 

know Heria non temper dclrehmt, non jcca 
temper. Semper dtUctant term mixta jxru. 
I hare hut room to repeat complimeuu and 

Sir, your bumble servant, 

Jo UK BKD.NEH. 



No. LI I. 
E880B DL'CALD STEWART. 
SIR, Uaurhline, 3d M 

I inclose yon one or two more of my baga- 
telles. If the fervent wishes of honest gratitude 
have any influence with that great, unknown 
Being, who frames the chain of causes and 
rperirj and happiness will alien] 
>our visit 10 ibe ( oniineut, aud return you sole 

icrever I am, allow me, sir, to claim it as 
ivilege, to acquaint you with my progress 

with truth, that, next to my liitle raise, 
aud the having, it in my power to make l.fe 



And these, I am ce 
.More desirable by far. 
Than a pock full of pour yellow sleenies, O. 

seen many wonder and rarity, O, 
Of changes that almost are yearly, O," 
Ltnong rich folk, op 

Who now live but HriDDlj, 

ii why should people brag of prosperity , U 
raitened life we see is no rarity, O ; " 

And our living been but scant, 
we ii. m Iran reduced to need charity, 



' .i Rood commendation, I 
."d in hand, 1 wi», 
■ r boUM ilia" this, 
rot the next generation, O. 

.i.l old age so much woiiu, 
Hot i ' i. 



comfortable to tbo 
dear to me, I sha 
nance, your patro 



BURNS. - 



id consequence of ( splendid c 



le, where the planks that 
i the gay table sparkled 



TO MRS DUXLOP. 

MADAM, * Mauchlitxe, ith May, 17S3. 
Dry den's Virgil has delighted me. I do not . 
know whether the critics will agree with me, ; 
but the Georsics are to me by far the best of 
Virgil. It is" indeed a species of writing en- 

poney, drawn up by the side of a thorough-bred ' 
hunter, to start for the plate. I own 1 am dis- i 
appointed in the Mneid. Faultless correctness | 

critic; but'to that awful character I have not j 
the most distant pretensions. I do not know i 

;c of any k 



withstanding their general stupidity and ras- 
cality, did some of the poor devils the honour 
o commend them. But light be the turf upon 
lis breast, who taught " Reverence thyself. " 



No. LV. 
TO THE SAME. 



lny pas! 



e YVr i 



dently copied, but by nc 

of this' owing to the translators; Ir, i\o:n 
every thing I have seen of Dryden, I think 1."., 
in genius and fluency of language, Pope's 
master. I have not perused Tasso enough to 

scious my criticisms must be very inaccurate, 
and imperfect, as there I have ever feit and la- 



No. LIV. 

TO THE SAME. 

jAdam, 27th May, V 

ave been torturing my philosophy to n 



nance, that ■• here I had no continu- 
ing city ; " and but for the consolation of a few 



There are few circumstances relating to the 

opulent bestow on their trifling family affairs, 
compared with the very same things on the 
contracted scale of a cottage. Last afternoon I 



Ellisland, 13th June, 178S. 

" Where'er I roam, whatever realms I see. 
Mi hear-, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee ; 

And drags at each remove a lengthen 'd eh iin.' 
Gddimith. 

This is the second day, my honoured friend, 
that I have been on my farm. A solitary in- 
mate of an old, smoky spenee ; far from every 
object I love, or by whom I am loved ; nor any 



n the hour of care, consequently the dreary ob- 
ects seem larger than the life. Extreme sen, 
iibilitj, irritated and prrjudiced on the gloomy 
iide by a series of misfortunes and disappoint- 

oul is laying in her cargo of ideas for (he 
royage oflife, is, I believe, the principal cause 
)f this unhappy frame of mind. 



lo purchase a shelter ; • 



DIAMOND CABIN! T LIBRARY. 

o digest tbose - 
i bapp..., 



> sport- fararr .pbs witl 
II great II 



Tbc most placid good-natare and sweet new art very well til 
of disposition ; a warm bean, gratefully devoted pood thing ; but when thrown al a man in a 

and sprightly cheerfulness, set oft' to the best to mention the irreparable loss of the egg.' 

furore: lbe,r 1 think, in a woman, may make wish also to be a partaker; not to digest bis 

ie read spleen, for that he laughs off, lut It 

d A'iic lust night's wine at the last £e!d-dav of the 

nor bine danced in a brighter a;- Crocballan corps, t 

1 a penny pay-wedding. Among our common friends J must no- f.,r 

pet one of the dearest of them, Cunningham. 

you can help him to any thing that will make 
TO MR P. HILL, bim a little easier on that score, n 



»ill be very 



I say nutbing- at all to jour m.d present a coutented happy man, that I know not wl 

— you have so long and of.en been of impor- can annoy bim, except perhaps he may not bi 

taut service lo me, and I suppose you mean lo pot the belter of a parcel of modest aneedo 

go jn cui.l'i' : I shall not which a certain poet gave him one night 

be able to lift up my face before you. In the supper, the last lime said poet was in town, 

meantime, as Sir Roger de Coverlr, because _ Though I have mentioned so many men 

it happened to be a cold day in which he made law, I shall hare nothing to do with them p; 

his will, ordered his servants great coats for fessedly- the Faculty are beyond my prescr 

mourning, so, because I hare been this week lion. As to their ci'mlr, that is another thin, 

plagued with an indigestion, I ha%e sent w.u (Jed knows they have much to digest ! 
by the carrier a fine oid ewe-milk cheese. " I The clergy I para by; their profundity 



and nil. It besets i 

. I 
cessful kna 



sight of Ml 



L pars by ; their profundity of 

their liberality of sentiment ; 

ueir loiai want of pride, and their detestation 

vrious, n» 



e of self-important 

the hand, the reeling spoils: my dinner; the whom I bare the honour to call friend, the 
proud tnuu's wine so offends mj palate that it Laird of Crjigii.irrcx.il ; but I baye spoken to 



hcred, pert coxcomb, is so disgustful 
nostril that my stomach turns. 

It BTet you have any of these disagreeable 
sensations, let me prescribe for you patience and 
a bit of my cheese. I know that you are no 
niggard of your good things anions j our friends, 

of the first abilities ..: 
: mind, as well as one of the best 
hearts and keenest wit! lb .1 1 b 

smarting at the pinch of distressful cireiim. 






ishi.keli'o 



broyyn stout, and superadd 
Oporto, yi'ii .. 

C h, the tu 

only broil., i . i 

the worthiest fellows thai ever any man called 

by the name of friend, if a Ian 

Cheese would help lo rid bun ot nai of hi, 



milk cheese ou the table, for the benefit of the 
Dumfriesshire whigs, lo enable them lo digest 
the Duke it ', Ulieal oou- 

1 have just this moment an opportunity of a 
private hand to Iiuinburgh, as perhaps v..u 
would not digest double postage. 



V. 1 MI. 
TO MRS Dl M.I'. 

MiMhline. id .(ajusl, I 



iinssrd'napkin. 
N 

a thrrr, but 1 
■ -.11 nig at a po, 
I ..mi .i\ milr. I 
it ■>] .it. a 



burns X.ETT2:;;, 



n Nithsdale, for I 



irrows of the'heart," is a kind of 



■s the bosom-chords 



of the author. Instead ol 



a for the sake 



:ighbourhood. They 
i that country. 



Sprung from night, i 
Fan-not cli 



Wake the bull 

Those that would the bloom devo 



But, thy u 
AVelcome - 
Follies pas 
Wake their 



:ofin 






ind, 



Reverence with lowly heart 
Him whose wondrous work thou art ; 
Keep his goodness still ia view, 
Thy trust and thy example too. 

Quod the Eeadesman of Nith-side. 



1 hills of New Cum- 



hedgentlem 



hopes depend, Wr Graha 

not only of this country, l_. _ . 

it. of this age. The following are just the first 



, proverb 'd, wisdom's bard-wrui s 

Let prudence number o'er each sturdy son 

iii» n and who give by rule' ; 
Instinct's a brute and sentiment a fool ! 

We own they're prudent, but who fetl 3 tU<\ ■-. 
good? 



No. LVIII. 
TO THE SAWE. 
Mauchline, 10th August, 17S 



Yours of the 24th June is before me. I found 
it, as well as another valued friend — my wife, 
waiting to welcome me to Ayrshire : Imetbolh 

When I write you, Wadam, I do not sit 
down to answer every paragraph of yours, by 
echoing every sentiment 1 .; liie faithful corn- 
answering a speech from the best of kings ! I 
express myself in the fulness of my heart, and 
guilty of neglecting some of your 
odd 
All 



r very o 



our epistles for several months have cost me 
othing, except a swelling throb of gratitude, 

Wrs Burns, Wadam, is the identical woman 



When she first found herself « as women wish 
to be who love their lords;" as I loved her 
nearly to distraction, we took steps for a pri- 
vate marriage. Her parents got the hint ; and 
not only forbade me her company and their 
house, but on my rumoured West Indian voy- 
age, got a warrant to put me in jail, 'till I 
security in my about-to-be paternal 



usual consequences began to betray "her ; and as 
I was at that time laid up a cripple in Edin- 

doors, and I wrote to a friend to shelter hei-, 
till my return, when oar marriage was declar- 
ed. Her happiness or misery was in m,, 



DIAMOND i \JH\l I 



,-in.k, ami who could I 



got a fern 
futourite 



». expen 



. , baps apish affectation, 
with all the other blessed boarding-school ac- 
quirements, which (jxtrdonncz mot, madame] 
ure sometimes to bo found among females of 
the upper ranks, but almost universally pel 
vade the misses of the would-be-gentry. 



result of a 

ins; health, plac 



No. LIX. 
TO THE SAME. 



" Why droops my heart with fancied woes 

Why sinks iny soul beneath each wintry 
sky f " 

My increasing cares in tliis, u 
country-gloomy conjectures m the dork vista 

of Inlurily— c fiuu^ii.',, i.f iny o»n inability 

foi the struggle of the world— my broadened 



science. Pardon me, ye, my ai 1 • 

I 
lu the coon* of etrna 1 

Johnscn'i Mutical Mutrum, a coll- 
Scottish songs with the music, was talked of. 
We got a song on the harpsichord, beg'.n- 



winds around her blowiog. " 



The a 



r was much admired : the lady or the 

" -Mine, madam— they are indeed i 
verses:" she took not the smallest notice of 
them I The old Scottish proverb says, well, 
" king's caff is better than ither folk's corn." 
I was going to make a New Testament quota- 



After all that has been said on the other 
side of the question, man is by no means a 
happy creature. 1 do not speak of the select- 
ed few, favoured by partial heaven, »bo,e 
souls ore tuned to gladness amid riches and 
honours, and prudence and wisdom — I speak 
of the neglected many, whose nerves, whose 
sinews, whose days are sold to the minions of 

If I thought you had never seen it, I wouKl 
transcribe for you a stanza of an old Scottish 
ballad, called Tiu L>/e and A& of ilex, te- 
giuning thus, 

" 'Twas in the sixteenth hunder year 

Frae Christ was born, that bou c ! i 
A* writings 



girlish year. ; the 
good old man, for such he was, was long blind 
ere he died, during which time, 1. 

mother would sing the simple old song of XVw 
L'Ua..dA. . 

It is this was ot thinking— it is those me- 
lancholy truths, that make religion so precious 
to the poor, miserable children of men— If it 
:„ ».. >ii,ni.m .*:*r,ng only in the heated 



i earth s 



My i 



I indulge these reflections, 'till my hum- 
In. uld 1. rin, i.t into the most acrid chagrin, 
...... would con 

hnve sat down to i i , 

iiij thai the 



its of my heart 
o cold philosophizing* the lie. 
ions, 'till my hum- '• Who looks for the heart weaned from earth ; 
(he soul affianced to her Ciod ; i 
deuce filed with heaven; the pious supplica- 
tion and devout thanksgiving, constant as the 
I ha thinks to 
meet with these in the court, the palace, in 
the -hire of public life ? No: to find lll.nl 



I was yesterday ut Mr ' 

my mind . i. 

i are, dear madam, you are now wore 

il,:,n pleased with lhaamgUol my letters. I 

I . 



BURNS — LETTERS. 



No. LX. 
TO R. GRAHAM OF FDiTRY, ESQ. 

When I had the honour of being introduced 
to you at Athole-house, I did not think so 
soon of asking a favour of you. When Lear, 
in Shakspeare, asks old Kent, -why he wished 



now solicit your patronage. You know, 1 
dare say, of an application I lately made to 
your Board to be admitted an officer of excise. 

with a request for an order for in-.. . 
In this affair, if I succeed, I am afraid I shall 
but too much need a patronizing friend. Pro- 
priety of conduct as a man, and fidelity and 
attention as an officer, I dare engage for ; but 
with any thing like business, except manual 
labour, I am totally unacquainted. 

I had intended to have closed my late ap- 

of a country i'anu.T ; bin ;.;'tor discharges 
some filial and fraternal claims, I find I could 
only fight for existence in that miserable man- 



s of s 



death, the poor man's last 

1 know, sir, that to need your goodness is 
to have a claim on it; may I thei Fore 1 
vour patronage to forward me in this affair, 
"till I be appointed to a division, where, by Ou 
help of rigid economy, I will try to support 
that independence so dear to ray soul, but 
which has been too often so distant from my 



She form 'd of varioi 



And all mechanics' many-apron 'd kinds. 

The lead and buoy are needful to the net 

The caput morluum of gross desires 

Makes a material, for mere knights and 

The martial phosphorus is taught to flow, 
She kneads the lumpish philosophic dough. 
Then marks the unyielding mass with gra 

Last, she sublimes th' Aurora of the poles, 
The flashing elements of female souls. 



! order 'd system fair before her stood, 
•e well pleased pronounced it very goc 

{est, she tried one curious labour more, 
spumy, fiery, ignis fatuus matter ; 
Such as the slightest breath of air might sc 

With arch alacrity and conscious glee 
(Nature may have her whim as well as we, 
Her Hogarth-art perhaps she meant to show 
""-- "orms a thing, and christens it — a poet 
ure, though oft the prey of care and s 

When bless 'd to-day unmindful of lo-morrc 
A being form'd t' amuse.his graver friends. 
Admired and praised—and there the horn; 

rtal quite unfit for fortr.ue's strife, 



work. 

propless climber of mankind, 

his helpless woodbine state, 

.1..' . ,_ i- . . , - \ , ; — 

A title, and the only one I claim, 

lay strong hold for help on bounteous 
Graham. 

Pity the tuueful muses' hapless train, 
Weak, timid landmen on life's stormy main ". 
absorbent stuff, 

ibly takes enough ; 

The little fate allows, they share as soon, 

erb'd, wisdom's hard-wrung 



Who make poor will da wait upon 1 should — 
We own they 're prudent, but who feels they 're 

good? 
Ye wise ones, hence ! ye hurt the social eye ! 
God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy ! 
But come, ye who the godlike pleasure know, 
Heaven's attribute distinguish 'd— to bestow 1 
Whose arms of love would grasp the human 

Come, thou who givest with all a courtier's 



- !. ■-' : _',i. 1. i 

Backward, abash 'd to ask thy friendly aid ? 
I know my need, I know thy giving "hand; 
I crave thy friendship at thy kind command ; 
But there are such who court the tuneful nine- 
Heavens, should the branded character be 

Whose verse in manhood's pride snblimely 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBBARV. 



Mark, how their lofty independent spirit 
Soar, on the spurning wing of injured merit 
Seek not the proofs i:i pril 0e 1 I 
Pity, the best of words should Le but « ind ! 
So to heaven's gates the lark-shrill soo| 



But grovelling on the ea 
In all the clamorous cry 
They dun benevolence v 
Oli:gc them, patronize 
They persecute you all y 
Ere my poor soul such < 






kt'.r. 



,lh --!,; 
heir ti 
jur future days 

» plough agj 



, I dare even tl 
n is in thy gift: 



To soothe the madding passi 
To soothe I 



1 think the Aidn 



. Like Thomi 
looked into nature for himself 
' on. One 



ig passions into peace, 
is, in simplicity, har- 






stance has he said t< 



'much. II 



if too much ol till 






jis progress, but like a true Poet of Nature "s 
i... course. His beginning 
imple, and modest, as if distrustful of lha 
mgth of his pinion : only, 1 do not altoge- 
ther like 







" Winding margin of an hundred miles. " 


No. LXL 


~ The perspective that follows mountains blue 
— the imprisoned billows beating in vain —the 


TO MR P. HILL. 


wooded isles— the digression of the jew tree — 
" Ben Lomond's lofty cloud-enveloped head, ' ' 
ic. are beautiful. A thunder-Ma 
jeel which has been often tri.d, yet our pari. 


Mauchline, Ut October, 1788. 




in his grand picture, has intirjected acircuai. 




stance, so far as I know, eulinly original : 


been the "Address to Lochlomond," you 






"The gloom 


in panne'.Ied one'of the author's jury, to de- 


. t.t streaks of moving 


termine his criminality r..-pfcting the sin of 


tire. " 


poesy, my verdict should be '* Guilty ! a poet 
of Nature's making!" It is an excellent me- 




In his preface to the storm, " the glens how 


thod for improvement, and what 1 believe 


dark between, " is noble Highland landscape ! 


every poet does, to place some favourite classic 


The " rain plowing the red moo] . 


author, in bis own walhs of study and compo- 


beautifullj fancied. Ben Lomoi. 




pathless top," is a gnod expression ; end the 


your author had not mentioned the name, I 


surrounding view from it is truly great ; the 


could have, at half a slance, guessed his model 




to be Thomson. Will mi brother po. t for;i*e 




me, if I venture to hint, that his imitation of 


Beneath the learning sun, " 


that immortal bard, is in two or three places 




rather more servile than such a genius as his 


is well described ; and here, he has contrived 



le poem, are the funis crowding, in wintry 
s, to Lochlomond "s " hospitable flood ; " 






sportsman, 'jn i» u 

the Si-flsoM. T he idea of " 



. . .10 is o 
is a noble rnV if poetic genius. " I 

, ," nre all in the same sule. 
«li If 1 am thus holding forth. 

perhaps lirini 



hoi 

■M.illtll J Igl is 









BURNS LETTERS. 



I must beg your pardon for this lengthene. 



grateful thanks tor 



for 


him two h 


ooks. Letters on 


the Rel 


gion es- 




Hal to Ma 










, The Wo 


rid Unmasked, o 






the 


greatest C 


leaL Send me 


hem by 






The Bible you 




is truly 


ele 


£ant ; I o 


ly wish it had 


been in 





Maudline* 13th Nov 
he very great pleasui 



K. and Miss G. M'K. with their flattering 
attentions, and artful compliments, absolutely 
turned my head. I own they did not lard me 



inly looked upon myself a 



endly welcome, elegant 
mark, lest I should be 
y orientalisms of appla 



d with the major'; 
thought to balance 



horns w ith an ode of gratitude to the family of 
Dunlop. 



Lomond, i 
Edinburg 



oem entitled An Address to Loch 
said to be written by a gentleman 
the masters of the High School at 
and the same who translated th( 
ory of the Pari'a, as published it 
)r Anderson. 

t Heifer. 



A the flow of soul. " 



SIR, 




November 


8, 1 


otwiths 

Inch t . 


i°rf e ou? 


pprobrions e 
hilosophers 


,:d , 










e of uc 


iversal seln 


hness, the p 






hey have g 


ven us; stil 


, the 






inanity to th 






ce to the fallen, ar 


•: a!l 










uman h 


eart Evei 


the unhappy parti 


ur kind 










' Lis fflli^ 






mpath 




e miseries of 






brother? w 


e forget the i 


,j>;ne 



:nt last Wednesday to my parish church, 
ordially to join in grateful acknowledg- 

t blessings of the glorious revolution. 



isofhis 



cu..,, 



the s 



Bred and educated in revolution principles, 

could not be any silly political prejudice which 

manner, in which the reverend gentleman 
J - L - House of Stua - — 



ay. We'mayrejok 



n.h ... 



e of t! 



deli- 



np the ashes of those, whose n 
perhaps as much as their ci 
authors of those evils ; and w 



i, withou 



made attempts, that most of us would I 
done, had we been in their situation. 

"The bloody and tyrannical House of 
Stuart, " may be said with propriety and jus- 
tice when compared with the .present Royal 
Family, and the sentiments of our days ; but 
is there no allowance to be made for the man- 
ners of the times ? Were the royal contempo- 
raries of the Stuarts more attentive to their 
subjects' rights ? Might not the epithets of 
"bloody and tyrannical," be, with at least 
equal justice, applied to the House of Tudor, 

The simple state of the case, sir, seems to 
be this — At that period the scieuce of govern- 
ment, the knowledge of the true relation be- 






DIAMOND CABINET LIBRA It V. 

It ages of ignorance and bar- 



The Stuarts only contended for prerogatives 
which they knew their predecessors enjoyed, 
nnd which they saw their contemporaries en- 
joying ; bat these prero stiri . v. ere inimical to 
the happiness of a nation, and the rights of 

the consequence of that light of science, which 
' d lately dawned over Europe, the monarch 



F Franc 



id hap; in, 



jf bis people : 



n'ol'h 



Whet 



ingofpart . 

mt likewise, happily tor us, the kingly power 
vasshifred into l no! her branch of the family, 
vho, as they owed the throne solely to the call 
if a free people, could claim nothing incon-is- 
jenauted terms which placed 



The 

laughed 



i been condemned i 



caprice of fortune, an omnipotence in particu- 
lar accidents and conjunctures of circumstances, 
which exalt us as heroes, or brand us as mad- 
men, just as they are for or against as ? 



ri hut 



o justly ,. 



those who would have subverted 
whole Ijegislatii'e Body, for similar 

■ :■,,- 
I cannot enter into the merits of the 

, ' i ■ 

.-, the Engli-.li convention was in 
iii, will cel.-htute the 



■r looked With rev, 

of a parent, cast 
of the kings of h 



No. LX1V. 
TO MRS DLNLGP. 
Elitlani, 17/A Dvtxmier, ITS 



Yours, dated Edinburgh, which I have just 

and wholly deaf," are melancholy news of hu- 

and honoured friend, thej carry misery in the 
sound. Gooduess on your part, and gratitude 
on mine, began a tie, which has gradually and 



s of my bosom ; and I trembU 



f miry ric 

MSs the b, 






i and the fancy of 

es, and dirty dung- 
il part of the func- 
, 1 bad belter been 
nnd then I should 



lave been plagued with any ideas s 

eakiug of clods, nnd picking up | 

:o mention barn-door cocks or ma 

which I could almost ex, 

any time — If you continue so < 



f.ir of Ayr, and by all that is sacred in the 
world, friend, 1 will come and see you. 

Your meeting, which you so well describe, 
with jour old schoolfellow and friend, was truly 
i lut upon the ways of the world '. 
—They spo I .. rinfa of the 

heart." Two veterans of the "men of tlo 
world" would have met, with little more heart- 
road. Apropos, is not the Scotch phrase, 
"Auld lang syne," exceedingly a 






ough in 



t in, 



I shall give 
the other sheet, ns 1 suppose 
you the post age. f 



Light be t 
ven-in^pired poet who composed ■ 
fragment ! There is more of the fire of native 
genius in it, than in half a doren of modern 
Hugh h Itacchanalians. Now 1 am on my 
hobby horse, I cannot help in ,11 :ig two other 
old stanzas, which please me mightily. 



That I ni iv 



BURNS. 

Thetrnmpe 



. 


jears are ranked re 

are heard afar, 

thick and blood.v 


ady 


make ml' 


anger wish to tarr 
that's heard afar, 


y; 


Nc 


, LXV. 




TO A YOUNG LADY, 





BALLAD. 
madam, December, 1788. 

I understand my very worthy neighbour, Mr 
Ridde!, has informed yon that I have made 
you the subject of some verses. There is 



jnfortunate alternative of leav- 
verses, the unfinished produe- 
ear. I 'have heard or read 



merely he said as a ncta bene to point out the 
agreeable recollection to his memory. 'What 

to me : and the verses I do myself the honour 

'■- =-"■-' : v. ■ -r :. .- -. .: ; ...-.._-. 

kind that he indulged in. 

It may be more owing to the fastidiousness 

u-lii'i i til, r i \ei, and hurt 

with the insipidity, affectation, and pride of 
mankind, that when I meet with a person 
«• after my own heart," I positively feel what 
an orthodox protestant wouid call a species of 
idolatry, which acts on my fancy 1 



eme is youth and beauty, a 
iUally striking and unaffected, 
and threescore years before I 



No. LXVT. 
TO SIR JOHN WH1TEFORD. 



d worthy friend, has informi 

a man,' and, (what to me 
arer) my fame as a poet. I 



in- rat. 
:,ara!,l; 



bly 



your character in life, when I w 

to their notice byr , friends to them and 

honoured acquaintances to me : but you are the 
first gentleman in the country whose benevo- 
lence and goodness of heart has interested him 
for me, unsolicited and unknown. I am not 
master enough of the etiquette of these matters 

formal duty bade, or cold propriety disallowed, 
my thanking you in this manner, as I am con- 
vinced, from the light in which you kindly 
view me, that you will dome the justice to 

needy, sharping author, fastening on those in 



heart and talents tLej, Live rt times been guilty 
of. I do not think prodigality is, by any means, 

believe a careless, indolent inattention to' eco- 
nomy, is almost inseparable from it ; then there 
must be in the heart of every bard of Nature's 
making, a certain modest sensibility, mixed 
with a kind of pride, that will ever keep him 
out of the way of those windfalls of fortune, 
which frequently light on hardy impudence and 

a more helpless state than his, whose poetic 
fancy unfits him for the world, and whose 

sions to ihe pclitesse of life — yet is as poor ts 

For my part, I thank Heaven, my star has 

above the peasant's shed, and I have an inde- 

I was surprised to hear that any one, who 
-of the 



gentl 



an, should bi 



j icL,:> ; 



:ethe 



o f:o'i,: 



Is of such a one a 



neddlo 



most unfortunate, unhappy pan 

, sir, for the warmth with which you inter- 
d in behalf of my conduct. I am, I ac- 
ivledge, too frequently the sport of whim, 

integrity to my fellow-creatures, I hope I 



u ;. r 



y..'.ir 






lovely flock 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, 
minds of a different 



No. LXYII. 
FfiOM UB C. BURNS. 

January, 1789. 



iloesgiel, 
DEAR BROTHER. 
I have just fii 



1 lor 



ny new-year's-day break- 
i, which" naturally makes 
ays of former years, and 



•* through the dark postern of time long 
elapsed," I cannot help remarking to yon, m} 



) you and Mrs Burn 



ii.nems of the 
id be* you will 
er to William, 



GILBEltT BURNS. 

No. I»X VII I. 

TO -MRS DUNLC P. 

Ellisland, New-Year day Morning, 1789. 
lis. dear madam, is a morning of wishes, 
t I came under (he 



apostle James's descriptioi 
righteous man " 



blessings ; every thing that obstructs or dis- 
turbs Iranqa :.t, should be 
removed, and every pleasure that frail huma- 
nity can taste, should be yours. I own myself 
so little a Presbyterian, that I approve of set 
times and seasons of more than ordinal] acts 
of devotion, for breakii 



of life a 






n\ Jay aboii 



about the cud, of l 



unday of May ; a 
h me a'kindVf holi- 



l believe I owe this to that glorious paper 
in the Spectator, "The Visionof MiMa;* a 

piece thai siruck my young fancy before 1 was 
capable of fixing an idea to a word of three 
syllables: "On the atli day of the moon, 
wliich, according to the custom of my forefa- 
thers, I always Urp )u ,y, uI'ut having washed 
myself, ami oil. r. .1 up my morning devotions, 



■■1 the high hi 
pass the rest of the di 

Wo know nothing, o 
the mbstani 



Bagdat, 

inediiaiiou aim 

to nothing, of 

1. IV. Ih lll.lt, ,i li;.ii, .11 



n daisy, the hare-be 

ld-brier rose, the bi 
hoary hawthorn, that I l 
w ilh particular delight. 1 never hear the loud, 
solitary whistle of the curlew, in a summer 
noon, or the wild roiling cadence of a troop of 
grey plover, in an autumnal morning, without 
feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm 
of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear 
friend, to what can this be owing? Are we 
a piece of machinery, which, like the jEolian 
harp, passive, takes the impression of the pas- 



within us 


lU.-.c ll: 


tr. .'■ 




!■- 1 




! realllk 


b— a ( 






aterial 








ilh and the 







TO DR MOORE. 
Ellhland, near Dumfr 



1.': J 






s ofieu as I think of writing to jou, whicl 
is been three or four times every w eek the*. 
x months, it gives me something so like th< 
ea of an ordinary-sized statue offering at i 
nversatiou with the Rhodian Colossus 
y mind misgives 






iride. 1 know that a very great deal of my 
ale eclat was owing to the s.ngularil} of my 
iluation, and the honest prejudice of Scots- 
men ; but sliU, as I said in the preface to my 

ome pretensions from Nature to the poetic 
baraclcr. I have not a doubt but the knack, 
the aptitude, lo learn the muses' trade, is a 
'■'- ' .stewed by Him " who forms ' 

if the soul ; "— I lit I as firm 1} believe, lh..t 
-.-'on is tie fruit of in- 
dustry, labour, i 

press I put off to 



'.■ ■' . ■ - 



to prosecute with all mj vigour. Nature has 

talents of bhi I composi- 

tion. 1 shall in I for until trial II 
ble lo know) whether she has qualified me to 
shine in anyone. The wor»t ot it ■-. ly the 






the mental 



BURNS.— LETTERS, 



'. ^ lla P 



te thin 



,.- tljau 



of all poetic diseases— hear 

br< iking despondency of himself. Dare I, si 
already immensely indebted to your goodnes 
ask the additional obligation of ycur beins tb 
friend to me ? I inclose you an essay of min 
- 'It of poesy to me entirely new ; I me: 



the 



raham of Fintry, Esq. a gentleman 

as. The story of the poe 
st of my poems, is connected with n 



of u 



j ou' something of the other. I cannot boast 

I believe, I shall, in whole, Z-,100 copy-right 

gentleman has yet to settle with me. I give 
honour\o n in r urebt° joursdf much" in my wel! 

To give the rest of my story in brief, I have 
married " my Jean, " and taken a farm ; w ith 



to be s 


atisiied ; with the 


r brother 


^InffhH'lEr}" 



that I have lost so much— I only interposed 
between my brother and his impent 

on this, for it was mere'selhshness on my part ; 
I was conscious that the wrong scale of the 
balance was pretty heavily charged, and I 

thought that li.iov. in_ a iiti • iiial piety, and 

might help to smooth matters at the grand 
reckoning. There is still one thing would 



No. LXX. 
TO BISHOP GEDDES. 
Ellisland near Dumfries, 3d Feb. 17S0. 
VENERABLE FATHEB, 



of life, and have now not only the 

im, where I am, and for what I am 

at first concern, the conduct of the 

Mtually blameable, and there I have 
myself in the way pointed out by 
rod Nature's God. I was sensible 



vould b 






warfare with myself, on account of habitual 

follies, to give them no worse name, which no 

general example, no licentious wit, no sophis- 

lelitj would, to me, ever justify, I 

madman to have made another choice. 



ife taught me to expect. 

Thus, with a rational aim and method in 

ife, you may easily guess, my reverend and 
' -honoured friend, that my characteristical 

iver an enthusiast to the muses. I am 



deten 

that view incessantly ; and to try if th< 

You will see'?n yci 
your pardon for detainii 






ig, that I have 
oeen runrng my tyre on tne Danks of Nith. 
Some larger poetic plans that are floating in my 

impart to you when I have the pleasure of 

Edinburgh, I shall have about the beginning 
of March. 

That acquaintance, worthy sir, with which 



No. L5XT. 
FROM THE REV. P. C— 



u.gujj reapeiuaure lur eicij . 

and virtue which adorns th. 



mthor of 
ter. He 



DIAMOND CAU1.NET L1BUARV. 



degree of literature, of taste, and poetic genii 
was added an invincible modesty of temp 
which prevented, in a great degree, his figuri 
in life, and confined the perfect knowledge of 
his character and talents to the small circle of 
his chosen friends. He was untimely taken 
from us, a few weeks ago, by an inflammatory 
fever, in the prime of life— beloved by all 
who enjoyed his acquaintance, 



r that 



e fell 
it fell upon h 









bead of n 



ented by 
genius. 

of; if 



a large octavo volume. In parti 
complete and regular tragedies, 



It falls to my share, w 
ith him from my youth u 
if your incomparable poeo 



Scottish style: and I hesitate not to sa; 
general, that they will bring no dishonou 
the Scottish muse ; — and allow me to add, 
if it is your opinion they are not unworthy of 
the author, and will be no discredit to jo 
is the inclination of Mr Mylne's friends 
they should be immediately published in • 
periodical work, to give the world a spec 

in the poetic line, which, perhaps, wil 
alierwards published for the advantage o: 



I must beg the favour of a 1 

acknowledging the receipt of i 

allowed to subscribe myself will 

Sir, your most oLedien 



u'd mnngle me in the mire, I am tempted 
eiclaim — *• Wbat merits has he had, ca- 
dence, that be is ushered into this state of 
ig with the sceptre of rule, and the key of 
les, iu bis puny fist, and I am kicked into 

world, the sport of folly, or the victim of 
le ?*' I ha\e read somewhere of a monarch 

Spain I think it was.) who was so out of 

ny, that he said, had he been of the Crea. 
's council, he could have saved him a great 
1 of labour and absurdity.- I will not de- 
d this blasphemous speech ; but often, as I 
e glided with humble stealth through the 
up of Prince's Street, it has suggested itself 
ne, as an improvement on the present hu- 
•' ■ a man, in proportion to his 



it of h 






of his 



,e neck 

ind limb-sinews of many of his Mije*t;. 's luge 
ubjects in the way of tossing the head and 
iptoe strutting, would evidently turn out a 
ast advantage, in enabling us at once to adjust 

vay to a great man, and that too within a 
econd of the precise spherical angle of reve- 
ence, or an inch of the particular point of 
..nee, which the important crea- 
ure itself requires : as a measuring glance at 
ts towering altitude would determine the affair 



You are right, madat 
MvineVpoem. which b 
The piece has a good di 



n your idea of poor 



uraged such a shoal 



o Mr C— 



j try o. 



;ud's English pieces. 



.u>, tijf 1 
erusalof ail Mjlne'a 
i would have offered 
in either selecting or 
proper for the press. 



No. LXXU. 
TO MRS DUNLOP. 



... I give you them, lb: 
the original, you may guest 



ike mine, the scene of domestic 
luslla of Edinburgh will soon be 
lickening dUgubt. 






■ mfi.rt. 



d glory or this world, I hale 

skulk into a corner, led the 

.■ of butiu- gaping blockhead 



the fair plant that from our touch with- 

Shrink mildly fearful even from applause, 
Be all a mother's fondest hope can dream. 

Strai;;li( a-, the foi-^lme, t-re her I ells disclo.-e, 
"'■' ' as the uiuiden-Mub>iiiig li nuhoru blows, 

as the fnir.'st of each lovely kind, 
• form shall be the image of your mind : 

nil shall long; to know the v 



BURNS. -LETTERS. 



No. LXXIIL 
TO THE REV. P. CARFRAE. 



I am much to blame : the honour Mr Myln 
stance, of its being the last production of hi 



I ha 


ve, as you hint 


tho 


ught of sending a 


copy of the 




















am afraid 














prup.T 


step 








accide 


tal a. 




has I 


rought 










■ th 






I ". 


Su 


^orir.Lon- 




for Sco 






ned, and 


aily do dun 




that tli 




y name is 






contempt. 


Forth 








ng any 


jf Mr M. 's 


poems 




S °"a S zine PU 


* a. all 


prudent, in 


lny opi 








,l;iutL 


.a!=Cot-.; = h 


poem. 


''iL 


= . ; 




la! , ur 


of a man 


of gen 








hunou 


able as any 




what 




Mr 


■■-. - 




are mo 


t justly entitled 


"V, h 




st harvest, 



let the friends of Mr Mylne's faate (among 
whom I crave the honour of ranking myself), 

and as a poet, and take no measure that, be- 
fore the world knows any thing about him, 
would risk his name and character being 
classed with the fools of the times. 



in two or three English and Scottish public 
papers, any one of liis English poems which 



* These beautiful lines, 



No. LXXIV. 
TO DR MOORE. 

sik, EUUland, 23d March, 17S9. 

The gentleman who will deliver you this is a 
Mr Neilson, a worthy clergyman in my neigh- 



needs your assistance, and v 
ectually serve him :— Mr Neil 

-. tU- Trance, to • " 



ilofin 



of a good 



s for 



specting the mosi 
mode of travelling, &c. for him, when he'bas 
crossed the Channel. I should not have 
dared to take this liberty with you, hut that I 
am told, by those who have the honour of your 
personal acquan 



r of r 



you, 



j have 



aTbo^rbu°t U r^en? 
leighbourhood, and ai 



However, in the particular part of her conduct 

to Ayrshire, I had put up at Bailie Wigham 's 
in Sanquhar, the only tolerable inn in the 

evening and howling wind were ushering in a 
night of snow and drift. My horse and I were 



uch fati 



with r 



laboii 



of the 



;the Bailie 

joking bowl, in wheels the funeral pageantry 

forced to brave all the horrors of the tempes- 
dght, and jade my horse, my young 
:e horse, whom I had just christen 1 
Pegasus, twelve miles farther on, through the 
wildest muirs and hills of Ayrshire, to New 
Cumnock, the nest inn. The powers of poesy 

cribe what I felt. Suffice'it to say, that when 
. good fire, at New Cumnock, had so far re- 
wrote the inctosVode.' 11 ^ ' 
I was at Edinburgh lately, and settled 
nally with Mr Creech ; and I must own, 
hat, at last, he has been amicable and ftJr 



No. LXXV. 
TO MR HILL. 



: LIBHAUV. 



II is economy, sir ; it is lhat cardinal \irtue, 

either compose or borrow a panegyric. If 
you are going to borrow, apply to 

to compose, or rather to compound, something 

: :, mj rcmarkab e frugality ; that 1 
write to one of my m»-l esteemed friends on 
this wretched paper, which was originally in- 
tended for the venal fist of some drunken ex- 
e dirty notes in a miserable 



t of anal 



O Frugal 


ity ! thou moth 






green* ! -t 


TornfomMcTu 








.j'u^tV/'i 


lead me, h 














eary feet: -not 


crags, bleu 


k and barren. 




of fame arc, bi 


in.", liangi 




thosi glitti 


ing Cliffs of Pot 




all-powerful dei 






where the 


sunny exposure 






lyed stockings with 



Col 



»' : !' 

y. °nd 
produce those blist 

ives of paradise!— Thou withered sybil, 
age conductress, usher me into the refulgc 
idored presence !— The power, splendid i 

ig of thy faithful care, and tender nru 
ill me thy son, thy cousin, thy kinsman. 



oppression, t 

But to descend from heroi 



home-leech ol private 

e of public robbery ! 



1:1 111 .1 I one .Mr It.. I>. it 
! xnir Well-wisher. I 

him, in,.: i. i . iii-.t lime 



i-. alie i.l, i ■■ 

■ ,'muhitiouol 

il "ill l.e .Ml 

H. gave his 



Society"—* copv of The Special . 

and Lome ■■ ■ ■. Mm of \hc 

World, Gudhrie't Geogrttphu-al Gr~.< 

some religious pieces, will likely I 

When I grow richer, I will "rile to you on 
gill po»t, lo make amends for ihi- 
prcseol, every guinea has a five guinea errand 

Your faithful, poor, but honest ; 



No. LXXVI. 

TO MRS ; 

Ellitland, id April, 17f 
I no sooner hit on any poetic plan or ft 
but 1 « ish to send it to you ; and if kno 
and reading these give half the pleasure to 
that communicating them to you gives to 



I have a poetic whim in my head, which I 
at present dedicate, or rather inscribe, lo the 
Sight Hon. (.'. J. Fox; bat bo 
fancy may hold, I cannot sny. A few of the 
first lines I have just rough sketched, as fol- 



I sing : If these mortal*, the critics, should 

bustle, 
1 care not, not I, let the critics go whistle. 

Out now for a patron, whose name and whose 
K'ory, 

Thou, first of our one 

. id and ■eaulremenl 

With knowledge so vast, and with judgment 

No man with the half of '.in . 

u so potent, and 

No man with the hall ol 

right ; 
V sorry, poor mi ' 






Good I. .1. wh.t . 

and hit 
\\ ilh his ,1, pili, mid his shallow 



• BURNS—LETTERS, 
le ruling passion Sir Pope 
the old Hebrew walking-switch, 



Mankind are hi 

you know him r 
"-- -tring, ruling passi 



One trifling particular, 
For, spite of his fine theoi 



-box— a friend, would 



Nor 



May n 



sigh, 



?anderer of the wood and field, 
e thickening brakes or verdant 
i home, or food, or pastime yield. 
Seek, mangled 



le drunken fellovi 



In the make of that wonderful creature ( 

Man. 
No two virtues, whatever relation they claim, 

wo different shades of the same 
Though like as was ever twin brother tc 

ther, 
Possessing the one shall imply you ve the 



life a mother only can bi 
is by winding Nith. I mi 






e the 



No. LXSTII. 
TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 



i ; 9. 

Lpr 
ly I pel 



V dear SIB, EUisIani, 4th 

our duly free favour of the 26th April 

ceived two'days ago : I will 

"isl'ature! by express proviso in their postage 
ws, should frank. A letter informed Witt 
le soul of friendship is such an honour tc 
uman nature, that they should order it fret 



A me know how you like my poem. I 
doubtful whether it wov.ld not be an El- 
ement to keep out the last stanza but one 
altogether. _ _ ^ 

thoVofnTTn! 3 ¥0°,? he! and the'noMe Colonel 



No. LXXVIIL 

[The poem in the preceding letter, had also 
been sent by our bard to Dr Gregory for his 
• icism. The following is that gentle- 
n'sreply.l 

FROM DR GREGORY. 

1KB. SIR, Edinburgh, 2d June, 17S9. 



One morning lately as I was out pretty early 
in the fields sowing some grass seeds, 1 heard 
the burst of a shot from a neighb. m 
tation, and presently a poor little wounded 
hare came crippling by me. You will gt 
my indignation at the inhuman fellow < 
cculd shoot a hare at this season, when t . 
all of them have young ones. Indeed mere 



d if you please, for you ! 
may judge ft 



DIAMOND l 

il freedom, give j< 



n reading it. Pray, give me like 
nyself, and her too, a eopy (as muc 
1.1 you please; ol" the WuLr fowl o 



flow well ; and the rhyme of the fourth line i 
the two interposed, 



pass. "Mu 

► lained'," in 
fault : Blcalh 

have no notio 


not very Intelligible. " Ulood- 
tanza iii. line 4, has the same 

lied yourself to such epithets, and 
i how stiff und quaint thej ap- 


Pe ".'f ° lhe 
Pope^aTwr 
b< som gored, 

l'urm is neith 


r», and how 

Iten, "Why 
" how would 
er a poetic, no 


incongruous with 
limeuts. Suppose 
that blood-stained 


plain commo 

"Mangled 
in this sense, 

Stanza 4._ 


l word: it is a mere sportsman s 
able to pathetic or serious poetry. 

is a nursery word ; hut both may 


-«• Who wil 


now provide that 


life a mother 


only can bcslo 


W," will not do at 


mother had 


bestowed an 


i used to provide 



title of your copy of 

would be wrong: it is but a colloquial and 

vulgar word, unsuitable to your sentiments. 



ith a fowling piece. 
of Mrs Hunter's 



•• 1 1.. 
jut lit 
II * 



distinguished 

il"in li • reiuiuiv. I< 

) smile nt lb.' iiiiinner in which tin' 



him quite a-lack. In .. Idler which he 

, ti is a 

in, bui hi crucifies me."- And ngai.,, 

eve in the iron justice of l>r li ; 

• the ill V lU. t believe mid tremble. " 
' . lh.-c criticisms, n, the 



;; l ; (1 ^ ] ;;; 



IINBT LIBBABT. 

\\l\. 

TO Mil " 

DBAS SIR. ilkJm . 

Though I am not without my fears 
mv fate at that grand, universal i 

. commonly called '1 ■ , 
yet 1 tru.-t there is one sin, whi I 
vagabond, Satan, who, I understand, is to be 
king's evidence, cannot throw in my teeth — I 
mean ingratitude. There is a certain pretty 
large quantum of kindness for which I remain, 
and, from inability, I fear, must I 
debtor ; but though unable to repay I I 

r, 1 sljal! ever warmly remember 
the obligation. It gives me i. 
pleasure to hear by my old acquaintance, Mr 
Kennedy, that you are, in immortal Allan's 
language, " Hale and weel, and living ;" and 
that yi or dunning family ore well, and pro- 

tion to the company of performers, whom the 
Great Manager of the Drama of Man h, bring- 
ing into action tor the succeeding age. 

With respect to mv welfare, a subject in 
which you once warmly and effect 
e.-ted yourself, I am here in my old way, hold- 
ing my plough, marking the growth of my 
corn, or the heahh of my dairy ; and at limes 
sauntering by the delightful v\ 
INilb, on the margin of which I have built my 
humble don 

ther, or holding ..n intrigue wi:h 
the only gipseys with whom I have now any 
As 1 am entered into the holy 
slate of matrimony, I trust my face is turned 
completely Zion-ward ; and as it is a rule with 

II hon. -i fellows, to npeal no 
hope that the little poetic lie, ■.. 
days, willof course fall under the oblivious in- 
fluence of some good-natured statute of celestial 
proscription. In my family devotion, which, 
like a good prcsbyterian, I occasionally give to 

■old folks, I am exlren. 
the psalm, ■• I 

,\e. and that other, •• l.o, children ore tiod 's 
heritage," lie. in which last Mrs B 
by the bye, has a gloric 



No. I.WV 
in MBS DTJUXOP. 

Ellitlani, BlsJJiens, 1780. 

PKAR MAHAM, 
Will you lake the effusion*, the mi 

« spirits, just as the. How fr. ui 
their bitter spring. 1 . 
eulor cause rol 

. -I. a thickening ata 

JKaaalsy EiriHB.c. 



*s it equally concerns the ignorant and the 
learned, the poor and the rich. That there is 
in incomprehensibly great Being, to whom 

mately acquainted with the operations and 



LETTERS 

— , the stanzas from that begin] 



outward deportment 


of ,hi~cr 




re, I think, 


t propositions. That 





consequently that I am an accountable creati 
that from the seeming nature of the hui 
mind, as well as from the evident imperfect] 



flection. I will go farther, and affirm, that 
from the sublimity, excellence, and purity of 
his doctrine and precepts, unparalleled by- 
all the aggregated wisdom and learning of 

ate of our species : therefore, Jesus Christ was 
from God. 

Whatever mitigates the woes, or increases 
the happiness of others, this is mv criterion of 



large, or any individual in it, this is my m 

What think you, madam, of my creed ? 
trust that I have said nothing that will les 



FROM DR MOORE. 
Clifford Slreet, 10th June, 17S9. 

you for the different communications 
e'made me of your occasional produc- 



If I 


our futur 


"rocuetW 


u'= 


hoTA d b 


L e : 


don the 


Scottish a 


tanza and dia 




and ac 




the mea 


sure and 


language of e 


lode 


rn Engl 


sh 


poetry. 


tanza w 


ich yon use 


in i 


mitation 


of 


Christ' 


Kirk on 

nof "th 


the Green, w 
at day," is fa 


th 


ngtoE 


° e 




s, and I s 






y agreea 




to Scot 












All the fine sat 


re and humou 


-cf 


your fl 


% 


Fair is 




English ; ye 








trouble 


to yours e 




ha 


e conve 


*d 



if \cur ether poems. In your Epistle lo J. 



which ends with, " Short while it 
" are easy, flowing, gaily philosophi- 

of Horatian elegance— the language is 
, with a few Scottish words, and some 
so harmonious, as to add to the beauty : 
t poet would not prefer gloaming to 



nderstand you 



sneaking kindness to t 


ji, fc 


reeable gipsey, 








lit frt 




^■jse, Luc tends on the 


coutr 


ary to promote 


r Cadell to v 


-rite to 


Mr Creech to 


id you a copy of Zeluco 


This performance 






I shall be glad 










do r. 


t think. 










,;> : un 






Ifsh 




ivish her, she is happy 




»h. Make my 


mplimeuts a - 




and believe me 


be, with sincere esteem 






Dear 


Sir, 3 


ours,- &c 


No. LXXSLII. 




FROM MISS J. 







n-House, 12th Jul;/, KS9. 
he happiness of being per- 



You must know, sir, I am 
e with the Muses, though I 
ny favours they have deigned 



possessed by Mrs I 
> Mrs Dunlop of I 



>r, which I should n 
r Terses of address to 



DIAMOND CA11INET L1BRAUY. 



Fair fa' the honest rustic swain. 
The pride o' u' our Scottish plain : 

And notes sue tweet 
Old Ramsay s shade revived again 



e you will thai 

h generosity and good- 

tnt jour exposing what 



To all she did her aid refuse, 
"TiU Burns aro 



To bear thy sang all raol 
Sue v.eel you strike (he d 
Apollo .wth poetic fire 

Thy breai 



Cfesar and Luath weel el 



To hear their lee 
N 

Thy dedication to 



miles I'd travel 

H. 

:spun speech, 



P. S.— If you would condescen 
me with a few lines from your ha 
take it as a particular favour, and 
at Loudcu-JIuuse near Galelock. 



No. LXXXIII. 

FROM MR 

London, 5.'A August, 1 78J 

jse me when I say, that the uncommo 
ties which you possess, must render yci 

correspondence very acceptable to any one. 

can assure you, I am particularly proud of yoi 



When slighted love becomes your theme. 
And women's faithless vows you blame ; 
With so much pathos you exclaim. 

But glanced by the moot frigid dame, 



.upraise the whisky gill: 

' U " V"',.r fame to raise; 

o sounds from ilka hill. 

To Burns 's praise. 

in or Pope but hear. 



They in a rage 

And curse your page. 



Sure Milton's eloquence wer 
Tho beauties of your verse to 
My rude unpolish <l Mr..!..--. 1 



And weel may me. 

The task I'll drop with heart sincere, 

n presont ,.- humble , 
'lliat all the Hi In ■ mortals ..hare, 

Afay be l.y turns, 
Dispensed l.y an InduJ 

Sir, I hope you will pardon my boldness in 
this; my htm. f lr. ii. 1.1. . while 1 .'.rile In you. 



Tien you can spare a few moments I should 
be proud of a letter from you, directed for uie, 
Cierrard Street, Soho. 

I cannot express my happiness sufficiently at 
the instance of your attachment to my late in- 

••stiinabie friend, Ee.b F.r_'Us=on, .vho'wns par- 



affords me the 



any amiable qualities, 
it, that I a 



■espondence ol 
, icity and e 
Mr Burns has refined In the art of poetry, must 
readily be admitted ; but u.n.i. hstandiog many 
" representations, I am yet to lcaru 



that he inherits 

There was such a richness of conversation, 
such a plenitude of fancy and attraction in 
him, that when I call the happy period of our 
intercourse to my memory, 1 feel myself in a 
state of delirium. I was then younger than 
hin by i i.iit or ten years ; but bis niunuer was 
, lhal he Bnrapuvttd t 



oung and old, I 
perilled on his oi 



and auiui 



11 ..he: 



lam, dear Sir, yours, Si . 



N . l.VXXIV. 
TO MB , 

SIVKK TO THK NBSSOUN 



a farmer in ibis 



burns.—:.. 



end seasons, will, 1 hope, plead my excuse f 
neglecting so long (o answer jour obliging If 

That you have done well in quitting yo 



aope, very, and deservedly indei 
porlance ; but whether the rem 



I 


nuch doubt 


The . 






-G tar 




a reader, e 


xhibited 










such an e 




£ 


.„■■::::! 






ariety of in 


elligence 


1 can 




nee 




e to com 


nueadaily 


i:'." 1 



n. I should have w 
heard of her and 


Titten her as she 
f this new busine 


rantry : and I am h 


appy to add, alw,. 
acter. The fact 
ite to her ; I shot 



When I received your letter I was transc 

ing for mv letter to the Magislr; 

of the Canorgate, Edinburgh, begging t] 



TherTvL 

in the man ; wherericl 

pleasure-purchasing p 



gative consequence of steady dulness 
those thoughtless, thouzh often dest 
follies, which are the unavoidable aber 
of frail human nature, will be throv, 



Yours, &C. 

No. LXXXV. 
TO MRS DUNLOP. 
Ellhland, 6th Ssplember, 17S9. 



lylasl 






ough when he pleases he has 



pipe, only nol 

le ago an epistle, part poetic, 
, from your poetess, Mrs J. 
ingenious, but modest com. 



with as much pleasure, 
epic poem of my own 



> obviously probable, 
side, every nation and 
ition has reached, for 



'■• 'Tis this, 
: Tistf 



xy friend, tl 



reaks oi 



■\\hen wealth forsakes i 

are few : 
When friends are faithh 



d when friends 
when foes pur- 
'Tis this that wards the blow, or stills the 
ipels his dart : 
2 spread her cloudlets 






; leen 



:ry busy 



•ith Zehic, 



The 






well as I can. 



my thoughts on the subjec 
1 Dku, k leu Din:, je i 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

And tired o' sauls tc 



No. U 

FROM DR BLACKLOCK. 

Edinburgh, 21(/i Au&ut, 17b 
Dear Hums, tliou brother of my heart, 
Both for thy virtues and thy art : 



Wl.i. Ii ii 


lure's lo.n.n 


, large and free 


Will. |.k 


isure on thy b 




And wan 


as thy soul w 


h all the Muses 


Whalnr 




easy grace. 


Thy nun, 






Or bid lb 






And ri.il. 




grief surprise, 


'Tis Nat 


re's voice distinct.; 


Through 


thee her orga 


, thus to melt. 


Most anxiously I wis 


h to know, 


With the 






How kee 


s thy miich-1 


ved Jean her h 


V* hut |,r 


mises lliy fa. 




Whether 


the Muse per 




And all thy anxious" ca 




Whether 




eepsalivc?^ 


And bow thy darling ii 





: to gloomy thoughts t 



TIIO. BLACKLOCK. 



No. L>. 
TO Dll BLACKLOCK. 



EUutarJ, 2 I 
our letter made me vauntie ! 
And are ye hale, anil weed, and ennlie ? 

L'ird send you aye iu weal's I want ye, 

And lli 



The ill-thief blaw the l- 

And nc\ir drink he near his drouth ! 
• •' mouth, 
He'd tak my led 



' 



But what d'ye think, my trusty tier, 
I'm turn'd a gauger — Peace be here ! 
l'lirnawiau queens. If. r I 

Yell now disdain me. 
And then my fifty pounds a-year 

Will fiule gain me. 

Ye elaiket, gleesome, dainty damies, 
Wha ly Castalia's wimplin streomies. 

That Strang necessity supreme is 

'Alang sons o' inn. 



'I he] maun hae brose and brats o' duddies : 
\ e ken ji arse] my bean right proud it, 

But I'll send Lesoms— • 



Lord help me through this world o' care .' 

Not but i hae a richer share 

Than raony ithtrs ; 
But why should ae man belter f;.re. 

And a' men brithen 

Come, Firm Resolve, tak thon the van. 



Faint'Sean" 



And let us mint 

A ladv fair : 
Wha does the utmost that he can, 

Will wbylesdomair. 

But to conclude my silly rhyme, 

To make a happy fireside clime 

To weans and « ife, 

That's the true pathos and sublime 
Of human life. 

My compliments to sister Beckie ; 

to honest Lock;;— 
I wat she is a daiutie d 

And gratefully my gude auld coekie, 
■ 
BOBEtn 



No. I.XWYHI. 

i R. GRAHAM, BBQ. OF HM'HV. 

IR, (MA Dumber, 17S0. 

ive n go<>d while hod n wish to trouble you 



* Mr Heron, author of (be Ii 



thought proper to n 
lother helpless, the c 
obliged is all fair ; an 



of Mr Mitchell, my collector, and the kind 
assistance of Mr Findlater, my supervisor. I 
dare to be honest, and I fear no labour. Nor 
do I find my hurried life greatly inimical to 
• ' b Muses. Thei 



indeed, 






;t of 



their acquaintance, like the visits of good 

them now and then as I jog through the hills 
of Nithsdale, just as I used to do on the banks 
of Ayr. I take the liberty to inclose you a 
few bagatelles, all of them the productions of 
my leisure thoughts in my excise rides. 

If you know or have ever seen Captain 
Grose, the antiquarian, you will enter into any 
'n the verses on him. Perhaps 



before, 



li I'll,!: 



a London Newspaper. Though I dare say 
you have none of the solemii-league-and-cove- 
nant fire, which shone so conspicuous in Lord 
George Gordon, and the Kilmarnock weavers, 
yet I think you must have heard of Dr M'Gill, 
one of the clergymen of Ayr, and his heretical 
book. God help him, poor man ! Though he 
is one of the worthiest, as well as one of the 
ablest of the whole priesthood of the Kirk of 
Scotland, in every sense of that ambiguous 
term, yet the poor Doctor and his numerous 

out to the mercy of the winter-winds. The 
inclosed ballad on that business is, I confess, 



boroughs. I 






Ik re 


will be 


such a hard ru 




hi' [ha 




S e 




election. * 












I am too littl 


eaman 


to hai 


e any 


poh 


ical 


attachments : 






'.'..•Lie'j 










aUoa 




avi. 


uals 


of both parties 






i has 






power to be the 


father of a coi 


:.:ry. 






























Sir J. J. do 












yet I doubt his 


fate. 











* This alludes to the contest for the 
lgh of Dumfries, between the Duke of 
leensberry's interest and that of Sir J ami 



No. LXXXIX. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

EUlsland, \Zih December, 1789. 
Many thanks, dear madam, for your sheetful 
ofvli ires. Though at present I am below 

^LVs r ' e ia P m 'roanin/3e-tLm1seri , e hinfr - 



scarce able to lift my hea 
Man ! To-day, in the 1 



!, is a^ome- 
tuing at which he recoils, 

"Tell us, ye dead; will none of you in pity 

What 'tis you are, and tee must shortly be I 

A little time will make us learn 'd as you are. 

Can it be possible, that when I resign this 
frail, feverish being, Ishall still find myself in 
conscious existence! When the last gasp of 
agony has announced that I am no more to 
those that knew me, and the few who loved 
me: when the cold, stiffened, unconscious, 
ghastly corse is resigned into the earth, to be 
the prey of unsightly reptiles, and to become 
in time a trodden clod, shall I yet be warm in 
life, seeing and seen, enjoying and enjoyed ? 
Ye venerable sages, and holy llamens, is there 



ruth in your 



.. all a: 



fables ? If there is another life, it must be 
only for the just, the benevolent, the amiable, 
and the humane ; what a flattering idea, then, 
is the world to come ! Would to God I as 
firmly believed it, as I ardently wish it '. There 
I should meet an aged parent, now at rest 
from the many buffettings of an evil world, 
against which he so long and so bravely strug- 
gled. There should I meet the friend, the 
disinterested friend of my early life ; the man 
who rejoiced to ses 



thy heart gloi 



luir ! thy weakne 
very thing genen 



DIAMOND CABINET L1BBAUY. 



Jems Christ, Ihou amiablcst of choraclcrs, 
I trust Ihou art no impostor, and that thy re- 
velation of blissful scents ol 



after lime hare bsei 
ikind. I trust lhal il 



impositions v 

blessed," by bung yet connected together 
belter world, where every lie lhat bound h 

far beioud our present eouceptious, n 
endearing. 

I am a good deal inclined to think \ 
those who maintain that what ore called i 
vous affections are in fact disease* of 



James or Anthony, it was cruel in y. 
let me know ; as i promise you, on ll 
lily of a man, who is weary of one w 
anxious about auother, lhat scarce a 
could give me BO much pleasure as t< 
n ; befalling my honoured 
If you have a miuui. 
pen iu pity to k pauvre miserable 



TO SIR JOHN SINCLAIR. 



been oinif.ed iu the statistical account, Iruim- 
milted to you, of the parish of Puuscore, in 
Nithsdale. I beg leave to .end it lo you, bc- 
aew aud moj I e usoful. Ilo«i far 
it i* il.serving ol n place in your patriotic pub- 

'lo storo the minds of the lower classes 

with u • lul I rli il o, ia certaii 



i, ling and reiloctioi 






w illi tin i i tin-, puri-.li, 

It. .1,1,1 It.. . I 

country ; .i i ..- tin- notice 

wholl .ll .1- li .1 



walks of the peasant ai 

nortby of bis attention 

Mr Riddel got a nut 

nto a society for the pu 
iniuiig themselves. 1 
sngagen-— - 



ing clause or two. il 



a legal 



Each u 

his entry, paid live shillings, and at each of 
their meetings, which were held every fourth 
Saturday, sixpence more. AVith their entry- 
money, and ilie ere .1 which Ihen took on the 
failh of their future funds, ihey laid in a tole- 



l\hat authors tiny were to purchase, vtus 
always decided by the majority . 
meeting, all the books, under Certain hues and 
forfeitures, by way of penalty, were to be pro- 
duced ; and the members had their choice ol 
the volumes in rotation, lie vihose name 
stood, for that night, first on the list, ban his 
choice of what voiume he pleaded 
collection ; the second bad his cli. 



.receding in. 

i !■ 

3\S0 


cling, w„s 

»lol..-M 


II ll .d i- - 


?H? 





which was formed under Mr Riddel's , __ 
ii.e, what with beuefactious of u 
him, und what with their own purchases tiny 
had collected together upwards of one hundred 
and bfty vol.. guessed, 

that a good deal of trash would be bought. 
Among the books, however, of this little 

. 
lory 0/ Scotland, BuwteU BitloTj i I 
the Spectator, Idler, Adventurer, Mirror, 
. Kn of the 
a/, Von Quixote, Joteph An. 
drcm, rj-c. A peasant who can read and enjoy 
such Looks, is certainly a much suj I 
10 his neighbour, who perhaps all 
Ins team, very little removed, except iu shape, 
from the Inn. I 

..our palr.otic exertions their so 

'sir, 



he above is extracted from the third lu- 
ll' Nil John Sinclair's S1..1. .. 
It was inclosed to Sir John by .Mr Ridded 



e following letter, also primed 




No. XCI. 
TO MR GILBERT BURNS. 

Ellislcmd, lift January, 1790. 
I mean to take achantage of the frank, though 

hypochondria pervading every atom of both 
body and soul. This farm has undone my 
enjoyment of myself. It is a ruinous affair on 

all" hands. But let it go to I I'll fight 

it out and be off with it. 

We have gotten a set of very decent players 

or two. David Campbell, in Ayr, wrote to 
me by the manager of tlae company, a Sir 
Sutherland, who is a man of apparent worth. 
> On New-year-day evening I gave him the 
following prologue, which he spouted to his 
audience with applause. 

No song nor dance I bring from yon great 

city, 
That queens it o'er our taste— the more i 

pity : 
Though, by the bye, abroad why will 

Good sense and taste are natives here at home-: 
Bur not for panegyric I appear, 
I come to wish you all a good new year ! 
Old Father Time deputes me here before ye, 
IVot for to preach, but tell his simple story : 
The sage grave ancient cough 'd, and bade me 

"You're one year older this important day," 

But 'twou'd be rude, you know, to ask the 

And wuh'a would-be-roguish leer and wink, 



BURNS LETTERS. 129 

That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing, 
~ou may do miracles by persevering. 

Last, though cot least, in love, ye youthful 

ngelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care! 



And humbly begs you'll mind the important — 
To crown your happiness, he asks your leave, 

For our sincere, though haply weak en- 
With grateful pride we own your many 



No. XC1L 
TO SIRS DUNLOP. 
Eilisland, 25ih January, 17S 



now. Sly health is greatly better, and 
ijment with the rest of my fellow- 



stloms fOT 3 the"r 



' ROBERT RIDDEL. ' 
7".; Sir John Sinclair, 
of (Meter, Bart. 



" THINK !" 


me, in making me your compeer in friendship 






Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope 
and spirit. 




reminded of the real il 


H"lio think to storm the world by din: of merit, 




I), his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way! 


SJost sincerely do I rejoice with you, dear 


madam, in the good news of Anthony. Not 


He bids you mind, amid yoar thoughtless 


only your anxiety about his fate, bet my o«n 


rattle, 


esteem for such a noble, warm-hearted, manly 


That the Krst blow is ever half the battle ; 


voung fellow, in the little I had of his acquaint. 


That though some by the skirt may try to 


"ance, lias interested me deeply in his fortunes. 




Falconer, the unfortunate author of the 


Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him, 


Sktpurreck, which you so much admire, is no 




more. After weathering the diea 






people, 1 think, that if a similar plan were 


and after weathering many hard gales of for- 


established, in the different parishes of Scot- 


tune, he went to the bottom with the Aurora 


land, it would tend greatly to the speedy im- 


frigate ! I forget what part of Scotland had 


provement of the tenantry, trades people, and 


the honour of giving him birth, but he was 


work people. Sir Burns was so good as to 
take the whole charge of this small concern. 


the son of obscurity and misfortune.* He 





* Falconer was in early life a sea-boy, to 
use a word of Shakspeare, on board a man-of- 

of Campbell, -..lire on Dr 

Johnson, entiiled Lexiphanes, then purser of 
the ship. Campbell took him as his servant, 



which Scotland, beyond 



s rude simplicity, speaks feelingly t 



;rold simple ballad, which I 
se you. The catastrophe of 
>or ruiued female, lamenting 
includes with this pathetic 



But that I had died when I was young • 
" that the grave it were mj bed ; 

And sae sound as I should sleep : " 

I do not remember in all my reading to hare 
met with any thing more truly the language of 

Misery is like love ; to speak its language 

I am every day expecting tin 



DIAMOND CABINET MBRAUV. 
dventurous spi 

y "LaufdcW 

aii^rs delighted 

wander, and v 

bstanding 



i,, -;„<.,; 



. Thej 



By .1 



IMry P ,rso 
a to be the 



boasted of him as his scholar. The editor had 
tlii, informal inn from a surgeon of a man. of 
war, in 1777, who knew loth Campbell and 
Falconer, and who himself perished soon after 
b;, shipwreck, on the .-oast of America. 

Though the death of Falconer happened so 
lately as 1770 or 1771, yet in the biogrnphy 
prefixed by l>i Anderson to his works, in the 
complete t'diti tli.- /'.- l< .■/ C, a, I lirilani, 

is snid, "Of the family, birth-place, and 

r..wns on (he coast of file, ail. I that 
. who haci sull'crcd 






■ 

i boj, forlorn u 

•' which I 



> The bard 



No. XCIII. 

FROM MR CUNNINGHAM 

2S;A January, 179C 
n some instances it is reckoned unpardon; 

have for your friendship, nothing can n 
uly, or more elegantly express, than 

' Time but the impression stronger makes 



Saving written to you twice without having 
teard from you, I am apt to think my letters 
tave miscarried. My conjecture is only framed 
ipon the chapter of accidents turning up 



o inform you what is eoing on among the 
irele of your friends in th-.se parts. In these 
lays of merriment, I have frequently heard 
oiir name proclaimed at the jovial board — 
mder the roof of our hospitable friend at 
itenhouse Mills, there were no 

' lingering moments Dumber 'd with care. " 



I am the champion, the Mend 
o^jroiii'aj-.ico^his^lanet 1. 



ided rep- 



black- eyed sistir, 1 remain, yours, 0.0 



No. NOV. 
TO MR ClNMM.lt 



EUisland, 
1 beg your pardon, n 

ashionable, unsightly 


13.'A February 


1790 

"3 " 




y poverty but n 


t u.y 


will Cons 


•„,..' 


BbI 


o make amend 






i-b a 



sheet of -ill, which lie. III my drawer among 
my plebeian foolscap pages, like li > 
an of fashion, whom that imp. 

Hunrmiii) 

! DM, with til* 



BURNS LETTERS. 



mdal-bearing belp-mate of a village prie 
a glass of whisky-toddy, with the ru 
sed yoke-fellow of a foot-padding er : -" 



my friend Cunningham t, 



' and trust to ' ' Sincere, though impel 

Tuesday, ]6i 
I Luckily for me, I was prevented from the 
cussion of the knotty point at which I had 
, made a full stop. All my fears and cares 
of (his world : if there is another, an he 
! man has no;hing to fear from it. I hate a 
lat wishes to be a Deist, but I fear, every 

:eptic. It is not that there are an 

,an;° but 3 like electricity, pblogist 

ita to go upon. One thing' frightens me 
uch ; that we are to live for ever, seems too 



December, 17S9. 
MY B"AH CCNNIKGHAM, 
Where are you ? And what are you doing ? 
Can you be that son of levity, who takes up a 

you, like some other of the worthiest' fellows 



What strange bein 
ble of enjoying plea 



, equally capa- 






self-abhorrence. There 






decent competency, respectable friends, are 

daily see those who eujoy many or all of these 
good things, contrive, notwithstanding, to be 
as nnhappy as others to whose lot few of them 
have fallen. I believe one great source of this 

us tip The hill of life, not 1 as' we 'alcend "other 
eminences, for the laudable curiosity of viewing 
an extended landscape, but rather for the dis- 
honest pride of looking down on others of our 



Sunday, 14th February, 1790. 
God help me ! I am now obliged to join 



nity. I am deeply read in Boston 
State, Marshall on Sa - 
Trial of a saving Interest, <J-c. but 
no balm in Gilead, there is no 



ortality of 



and our friends without satiety or sep; 
how much should I be indebted to 
who could fully assure me that this 



My time is once more expired. I will write 
to Mr Cleghurn soon. God bless him and all 
his concerns ! And may all the powers that 
preside over conviviality and friendship, be 
present with all their kindest influence, when 
the bearer of this, IUr Syme, and you meet ! 
I wish I could also make one. — 1 thii.k v, - 
should be 

Finally, brethren, farewell! Whatsoever 
things are lovely, whatsoever things are gentle, 
whatsoever things are charitable, whatsoever 
things are kind, think on these things, and 

ROBERT BURNS. 



No. SCV. 

TO MR HILL. 

Etlislani, 2d March, 1790. 
late meeting of the Monkland Friendly 
:ty, it was resolved to augment their library 
by the following books, which yon are to sei.d 
is soon as possible -.—The Mirror, The 
nger, Man of Feeling, Man cf the World, 
se for my own sake I wish to have by the 
carrier) Knox's History of the Reforma- 
,- Roe's History of the Rebellion in 1715; 



ly's Meditations: Bevc 

Thoughts ; and another copy of Watson 

cfDivuiity. 



' V 



,'LtU 


ago, to 


pay some m 


oney he owed me 


tj ;u 




e "but i a have 






e purpo 




heard from nei- 


In additionto 


7heTooks I 


commissioned io 




Ivran 


very much, 


An Index to the 


xcise 




r an Abridgment of all tU Sta- 




to in fo 


rce, relative 


o the Excise, by 




fifi m n, 




ree copies of this 


ok ; 




w to be had 


cheap or dear, 



I'.* 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Ihc better, lul s« 



for me. An honest country neighbour 
' >, A Family Bible, the larger 

>nrf-hanuVd, for he does not 
o give above ten shillings for the book. 
1 want likewise for myself, os you can pick 
them up, second-handed or cheap, copies of 
Olway's Dramatic W .:. , ]! u Jonson's, Dry- 
rn's. Congreve's, Wycherley't, Tanbrugh'n, 

, Colman, or 

Moliere, in 

Any other good dra- 



Cibber'e, or any Dramali 
modern — Macklin, Garrick, Fo 
Sheridan. A good copy 









o have Racii , 
too. I am in uo hurry for all, or any of these, 
hut if you accidentally meet with them very 
cheap, get them for me. 

And now, to quit the dry walk of business, 
how do you do, my dear friend ? and how is 

elegantly handsome, at least as amiable, and 



I am out of all pitience 
for one thing. Mankind 

instances, I do not thin! 
good things we chance ti 
us ; but we are placed i 
nakedness, and hunger, ai 
that we are under a curse 
in- s-.-llUhncss, in order 
Still there are, in eury a- 



ion and prudence. ] 
anity, it is when I c 
side of my dispos 

of follies and sins to 
J, and I believe I t 



Nothing can reconcile me to the common 

tie. And 1 am out of all patience to em that 
equivocal character, Hastings, impeached by 
" the Commons of England. " Teil me, my 
friend, is this weak prejudice ? I believe iii 



her independe 


•'.'-- , 


her honour ; 


the'illustrio'ua 










land," &c — 


I be 




nong your men 


of the World- 






guide for the 


most part and 


ZOV 






as so many m 


.difc 




ngheadednesa. 


They know lb 


- "-.•■ 


of bawling i 


ut such terms. 



with this vile world, 



issity of studj 
bw souls, th; 
ssary alloy of 



No. XCVI. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Ellisland, 10th April, 17 BO. 
have just now, my ever-honoured friend 
b luxury, in reading a papt 



of the Lounger. 
judices. 1 had ol 
Spectator, Ailventu 
but Mill with a ce 

have I often said 



. md World: 

lain regicl, that they were 

entire)] English. Alas! 

ii ,i lire all the 

v. In. h im eountry reaps 



own private use, with almost all the able ilaUt- 
men tiiat ever existed, or now exist, when they 
talk of right and wrong, they only mean proper 
and improper ; and their measure of conduct 

lor the truth of this l'shall not ransack the 
history of nations, but appeal to one of the 
ablest judges of men, and himself one of the 
ablest men that ever lived — the celebrated 
Earl of Chesterfield. In fact, a man who 
could thoroughly control his rice- 
they interfered with his interest, and who 
could completely put on the appearance of 
everj virtue as often as it suited his purposes, 
is, on the Stanhopian plan, the perfect man ; a. 
man to lead nations. But are great abilities, 
complete without a flaw, and polished witht ut 
a blemish, the standard of human excellence ? 
nly the staunch opinion of men if 



orth, 1 



; but I a 
■ give the Stygian doctrine a loud ue- 
Uowever, this must be allowed, thai, 

ud the grave, then, the true measure 
i conduct is proper an I 



. of I 



cely the import ■ 
large, as harmony a 



3 the world a 

: sense of honour, like u nice ear for 
. thougli it may sometimes give the pos- 
sessor an ecstasy uukoown to the coarser 
organs of the herd, yet, considering the harsh 
gratings, and inharmonic jars, in this ill-tun, d 
state of being, it is odds but the individual 
would be as happy, and certainly would be as 
uch respected by the true 
it would then stand, without cither a good 
J or a good heart. 

You must know I have just met with the 
Minor and Lorr.ger for the first time, and I 
am quite in raptures with them: I should be 
glad to have your opiuion of some of the papers. 
The one I have juM read. lo„n s -r, No. til. 
has cost me more uoncst tears than anything 
I hove read of n long time. M'B 
I een called the Add-on of the Scots, and m 
iiion, Addison would not be hurt at the 
riion. It he has not Add 
r, he as certainly outdoes him in the 
sod the pathetic. ' 

anted in the laws of 

m.) I estimate ns the Brat performance 

. 

■ r even |iie.ll~. v 



Immunity an, 



BURSS. -LETTERS. 



still, with all my ad 




of M 


writings, I do not Jcno 


vif the 




reading for a young ma 










i V7i 


Do not you think, mad 


am, tha 




favoured of Heaven in 


the str 






ertaiulv 


";.';; 


be a purity, a tendernes 


s.adigr 


; >''> 









;ree, absolutely disqualifying for the truly 

ife. If I am not 'much mistaken, my gallanl 

onng friend, A , is very much undei 

hese disqualifications ; and for the young fe- 
nales of a family I could mention, well may 
parental j-"-*- 






imble friend, have 



as my vc 



mbled for i 



liappy —or peculiarly miserable I 
lately ; but as I have got the 





No. 


XCVIL 




FROM MR GTJNNINGHAJ 






El':.'.: 


■gh, 25th Say, 


1790. 


MI DEAR 








I am much indebted to you for y 
friendly, elegant epistle, and it sbaf 
part of the vanity of my composition, 
your correspondence through life. 

Burnet, at a time when she was in 


our la 
make 

It w 

of :•; 

such 



rirtue, should be nipt in the 
the smile of cheerfulness — ol 



bud. Her's 

sensibility, not of allureme 

How does your friendly 



to hear from you. I beseech you, do n 

I most sincerely hope all your con 
life prosper, and that your roof-tree ei 
blessing of good health. All your frie 
are well, among whom, and not the 
your acquaintance, Cleghorn. As for 

let a man be ; but with these I am ha 



No. XC1X. 

TO DR MOORE. 

Dumfries, Excise-Office, UihJuly, 1 



Coming i 


Hot 


wn this 


morning, to a 


ttend my 




is office, it 






met with 


a ge 




who'teHs me 




his way t 


Lot 


don; s 


1 I take the opportunity 


■ 




on, as 


franking is a 




under a t 




arydea 


th. I shall h 






flei 










andbu 


tie, and I shall imii-.v.,- 




si can 


but let my le 










..asmiscella 




newspape 




short 'a. 


a hungry gra 


ce-before- 


meat,or as Ion 


« as a la 


w-paperin the 


Douglas- 




ill- 


spelt as 




•s billet- 


mudc'er's 


L l , : . 


sightly 


Ls™aw7as°B 

t; I hope, c 


nsiderin- 






you will forgive" it ; 






> no esp 




e, I shall 




eflectioD 


about it. 






- -'-■ 




ul in not retu 




my thanks for your 


most valuable 


present, 



Dlameable for my neglect. You were pleased 
which so flattered me, that nothing less would 



rdson, and Smollet, 
es and merits as novel-w 



ity, and I may 
probably never bring the business to bear; but 
Tarn fond of the spirit young Elihu shows in 
the book of Job — "And I said, I will also 
declare my opinion. " I have quite disfigured 
my copy of the book with my annotations. I 
never take it up, without at the same time 
taking my pencil, and marking with asterisks, 
parentheses, &c. wherever I meet with an ori- 

a character sketched with uncommon preci- 
Though I shall hardly think of fairly writ- 



The little collect 


on of 


onnets have some 




hem. 


If indeed I am in- 


debted to the fair 










a celebrated author 


of the other sex, I s 










ateful acknowledg- 


ments, and my own 


ideas of the comparative 


excellence of her pi 




woulddo this last, 


not from any vanity of thinking that my re- 


marks could be of 




onsequence to Sirs 


Smith, but merely t 
author, doing as I 




own feelings as an 


roold be done by. 



Is there anj 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



No. XC1X. 
TO UBS DUNLOP. 

np.AK MADAM, 8M August, 1700. 

sit down to "write to you. X-'k me not why I 



No. C. 

TO AIR CUNNINGHAM. 

Elluland, 8lh August, 1 
e me, my once dear, and eve 
my seeming negligence. You 
rn, and fancy Hie busy life I lead, 
d down my goose feather to b< 



crampets of attention, the brazen 
of integrity, I may rear up the sup. 

i.-.. ni'i-, ami, from it-, liarii 
bid d.-lianee to the storms of fate. 1 
this a •' consummation devoutly U 



" Thy spirit. Independence, let me share ; 

Lord of tb, • lion heart, ami 
Thy steps I follow with nij ; 

Noi need the storm that bowls along t 
sky!" 



FROM DR ELACKLOCK. 



EdiiUntrgk, ]j/ September, 1790. 
is my dear frieud ? — much I Ungnukll 



■ 



1 Thej are the 

n. I h >ll lend it 



Anon to my bu; 
])r Anderson gi 



Entangled with bus 



d provokes inc to speed. 



or less human nature m 
i of leisure the Muses * 






Whil.si ili. Howit r, 1j ui bur honey sponta- 
neously Hows. 
As fragrantly smells, and as vig'rously gram. 



And add, your promotion is here understood ; 



You then, more at leisure, and f 

control, 
May indulge the strong passion that 



>' languid my thuiighl 



* The preceding l.-tl. r txpl 

dor which this was written. The strum of 

indignant iurectiva goes an ■ me lime longer 
in the style which our bnrd was loo apt to iii- 

luu alreiui, 



BURNS LETTERS. 



FROM 


\ir cu 


NNINGHAM. 






Edi 


nburgh, 


Uth October, 1 


7S0 




lately receiv 


>d a le 


ter from our 


ft 














ciety— born t 

orals, his fate' 
ill 1 am persu 


a pure 


s been hard in 
s happy ; not 




th< 


illant, the gay 


Lothario 


, tut in the bin 


T-- 








xed with regre 








"thed 








I saw Mr Dunbar put 






of 


ur newspaper, 


Mr Vi < 


od'sPoem on 




m- 



This poem has ww 
which you alone are capable to execute :— a 
long adapted to . aJ: , K u,v.\ ■ t the year. Ths 
task is difficult, but the theme is charming: 
should you succeed, I will undertake to gel 
new music worthy of the subject. What a 
tine field for your imagination, and who is 






a thirs 
country.' 



so is got 



sorrow which I have received. In this in- 
stance I most cordially obey the apostle — 

to s»ig tor joy is no new thing ; but to preach 

I read your letter— I literally jumped ft 

poet, lumpishly keep his seat on the recei[ 

my gilt-headed Wangee rod, an instrumei 
L-idispeusably necessary, in my left hand, i 
the moment of inspiration and rapture; an 

amongtheli h, to muse ove 

mv jcj ly retail. To keep within the bounds 
of prose was impossible. rVrs Little's is a 



verses. See the poem— On the Birth of a Pott- 
humous Child. 

I am much flattered by your approbation ol 

your former letter, though, by the bye, you 



<y 1 Your book is, I hear, on the road to 
h me. As to printing of poetry, when you 
iare it for the press, ycu have only to spell 
jht, and place the capital letters properly ; 



I have a copy of Tarn o' Shantcr ready to 

Theardof Mr Corbet lately. He, in conse- 

oul D tosetveZJ. ee °ri™e favour me soon with 
an account of your good folks ; if Mrs H. is 
recovering, and the young gentleman doing 



S'ature and pastoral imagery as yourself? It 




No. CIV. 


exist, so far as I know, a proper song for each 




TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 


skaiting, and one autumnal song, IL-.rvi.-i 










EUisland, 23d January, 1791. 


rusty,' you may mount the hill' of Parnassus, 




ny happy returns of the season to you, my 


and return with a sonnet in your pocket for 




ir friend ! As many of the good things of 
3 life, as is consistent with the usual mix- 


every season. For my suggestions, if I be 


tin 






e of good and evil in the cup of being ! 






have just finished a poem, which vou will 


all my weaknesses, and pound out one grain 




eive inclosed. It is my first essay in the 


.1 insincerity, then am I not thy 


wa 


^/ve? these several months, been hammer- 


Faithful friend, &c. 




at an elegy on the amiable and accomplished 






ss Burnet. I have got, and can get, no 




la 


ther than the following fragment, on which, 




P! 


ase give me your strictures. In all kinds of 


No. CIIL 


1" 


nion ; but in sentimental verses, in the poe- 


TO MRS DUNLOP. 


"■} 


of the heart, no Roman Catholic ever set 
re value on the infallibility of the Holy 


November, 1790. 




mean the introductory couplets as text 



Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forge; 

i„ '.,.,!, ,. r ■■: ■:.-..: - v i --■ : 

In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, 
As by his noblest work the Godhead best i 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Ye heathy wastes, inm 



me bear from you soon. Adieu ! 

No. CV. 

TO MR PETER HILL. 

17 Ih January, 1791. 

1, and place (hem ov< 

of yonn, whic 



T.-.ke these two gui 



mouth thesi 

write good things as apoli 

,ve n. wiry to. O the supi 






imbitioi 



g of 



ctedj nnd his 

il . mpts ut « it, shall meet with 

rouuhiuiiici- mid applause. Nor is i( only (lie 

of tin-.- ; tin- children of folly and 

, . ng of «vB, 






detuned us n I. ,.1 l,.r hi: 



II his uii, i 

, Ih.- jllitice ol 
country. Din . 
man ol famlij nn.l fortu 



the needy prostitute, who has si 
corner of the st'eet, waiting to earn the wages 
of carnal prostitution, is left neglected and in- 
sulted, ridden down by the chariot wheels of 
the coroneted BIJ>, hurrying on to the guilty 



o plead, riots nightly 
ivines may say of il 



,ed by their n ap oo. 



No. CVL 
FROM A. F. TYTLER, ES<}. 
Ediniurga, lith March, 1 
.terday put into my hands 



71-1. 



Mr 11,11 j( 

yours, entiUed Tom o' Stealer, a tal'e. 11. 

mtv high pleasure I have received from tie 
pi ni5.il ol iliii admirahle piece, I feel, demands 
ihc warmest acknowledgments. Hill tells u.e 
ho is to send oft' a packet for you this day ; 1 
ennnot resist therefore putting on paper what 
1 must have told you in person, had I met 
with vou after the recent perusal of your tale, 
which is, that 1 fed 1 owe you a debt, which. 
if undischarged, would reproach me wilh in- 
gratitude. I have seldom in my life tasted of 
higher enjoyment from any work of genius, 
than 1 have received from this composition ; 
and I am much mistaken, if this poem alone, 
bad you niver written another syllable, would 
not have been sufficient to have transmitted 
your name down to posterity with high repu- 
tation. In the introductory pari. I 
Eninl the character of your hero, and exhibit 
iin at the ■ I I tippling 

cronies, you have delineated nature with a 
humour and /....rid, that would do 
Matthew Prior; but when you di 
unfortunate orgies of the w'lteh - 
and the hellish sei uei j in which they are ex- 
hibited, you displnv a power of imagination, 
that Shakspeure himself could i. . 

. ..ow not that 1 h.iv 
wiih a picture of inure horrible fancy than the 
following : 



And b, , 



his c.iuld bund Ink 



: had manjrled, 
•y Antra re/ iflK 



osed, 



, after the two following lir 
o' horrible and awfu',"&c. the 

1 the 



it themselves, yet as they 
derive all their merit from the satire" they con- 
tain, are here rather misplaced among the cir- 
:umstances of pure horror.* The initiatior 
.f the young witch is most happily ' 



—LETTERS. ' IS 

5, trophe, for the reason you justly adduce 
--* " sily be remedied. Your approbati 

:eed, persevere in this species of poetic compositi 

in my fancy. If I can bring these float 
ideas to bear any kind of embodied form 



effect of her charm: 
tnce, on Satan himsel 
Ah, little thought thy r< 






eii,' era 



and enters completely into the spirit of the 
scene, are all features of high merit, in this 
excellent composition. The only fault it pos- 

of the story, is not commensurate to the inter- 
characteristic painting of the preceding parts. 
—The preparation is fine, but the result is not 
adequate. But for this, perhaps, yon have a 
good apology —you stick to the popular tale. 

And now that I have got out my mind, and 
feel a little relieved of the weight of that debt 
1 owed you, let me end this desultory scroll by 

a species of composition, in which but a very 

—write more tales in the same style ; you 
will eclipse Prior and La Fontaine ; for, with 
equal wit, equal power of numbers, and equal 
naivete of expression, you have a bolder, and 
more vigorous imagination. 

I am, dear Sir, with much esteem, 



No. CV1I. 
TO A. F. T^TLER, ESQ. 



rateful acknowledgmt 



tempt ; to have that poem so much applaudec 
by one of the first judges, was the most delici 



sublunary state, thought proper to check my 
exultation by a very serious misfortune. A 
day or two after I received vour letter, mv 



do more than just in general terms to thanl 
m for this additional instance of your patron- 
;e and friendship. As to the faults you 



No. CVIII. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Ellisland, 7th February, 1791. 
"When I fell yon, madam, that by a fall, no 
from my horse, but with my horse, I have beei 
a cripple some time, and that this is the firs 

me in writing ; you will allow that it is toi 
good an apology for my seemingly ungratefu 

to rhyme a little, which implies some tolerabb 



farther than the following fragment, of which 
please let me have your opinion. You know 
that elegy is a subject so much exhausted, that 

pected ; 'tis well if we can place an old idea in 
a new light. How far I have succeeded as to 
this last, yon will judge from what follows : — 

(Here follows Ike Elegy, fyc. adding this verse.) 

The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, 



[ have proceeded no further. 

Your kind letter, with your kind remem- 
rance of your god-son, came safe. This last, 

- -- lity apart, 



drooping head, 
ith a good df 



d of difficulty. When 

ihall hear farther from 

Madam, youn 



PIAMO.NI) CABINET LIBRARY. 



TO LADY W. M. I 
ACKNOWLEDGING A PRESENT oy A VAL1 



Laving lately broken my right 

ladyship's elegant [.resent Ly .'Sri .Miller, from 
returning you my warmest and most grateful 
a;knowledgroents. I assure your ladyship, I 
shall set it apart; the symbols of religion shall 
only be more sacred. In the moment of poetic 
composition, the bos shall be my inspiring 
genius. When I would breathe the compre- 
hensive v.i»h of benevolence for the happiness 
of others, I shall recollect your ladyship ; when 



No. CX. 
MRS GRAHAM OF FINTRY. 



er it is that the story of onr 
of Scots, has a peculiar effect c 
s of a poet, or whether I have, 
d ballad, succeeded bevond my 



ctilarly to you. It is true, the purity of or, 
motives may be suspected. I am already 

deeply indebted to Mr G 's goodness; 

and, what in the usual ways of nun, is of infi- 



mj poverty ; 
and without any fustian affectation of .-pint, 1 
run promise and affirm, that it must be no or. 



u u pari .'i bun 
they ever be those of a gencro 

mind I It is dc 
Hut I was born to dependent 



FROM THE BEY. G. BAIRM. 

sik, Aon/Jon, 6th February, J79]. 

I trouble you with this letter, to inform joa 

talked of) of Michael Brua's Pocnu° The 
profits of the edition are to go to his mother— 
a woman of eighty years of age — poor and 
helpless. The poems are tr ' - ■ 






•, lthin 



to make out a 2s. 6d. or I 

assistance of a few hitherto unpublished ver 

which I have got from the mother of 



the 



ixious to guard 
against tarnishing his character, b] 

-c, tin-" ass. 1 am .-" 
of, have Lecu submitted to the re\ision of some 

mean still to submit them to others. 

fliay I beg to know, therefore, if you will 
take the trouble of perusing the J'/Jb.-ti 
giving your opinion, and suggesting what cur- 

to you as advisabl. ? And will you allow us 

I know the eitent of this request It is 

bold to make it. But 1 haie this consolation, 
yon see it proper to i 

will see my apology in the motive. 

May Ijust add, that Michael Bruce is one 
in whose company, from his past appearance, 
you would not, 1 am convinced, blush to be 
found; mil as I would submit every line of 
Ins thai should now be published, to your own 
criticisms, you w u uld be assured that nothing 
din.- ilnry either to him or you, would be ad- 
mitted in that appearance he may make iu 

You have already paid an honourable tri- 
ne t.i kindred g. mils in Fergussou_l fondly 
ipe that the mother of Bruce will cxperieuce 
your patronage. 

I wish to have the subscription papers cir- 
culated by the ] 1th of March, Bruce 's birth- 
'ay; which, I understand, some friends in 
cil.ind l.ilk this year of observing -at that 
me it will be resolved, I imagine, to place a 
. lain, humble stone over his grave. This, at 
least, 1 trust you will agree to do— to furuish, 
ta, an inscription for it. 
On those points may 1 solicit an 
early as possible; a short delay might disap- 
poinl us iu procuring lb l i 
which is lb. 

You will be pleased lo address for me under 
mi, lu the liukeof Athole, London. 

P. B. i' i 

: 

I 



KURNS LETTERS. 



No. CXII. 
TO TEE REV. G. EAIRD, 

IX ANSWER TO 

Why did you, my dea: 
a hesitating style, - 



E FOREGOING- 



. ._'tIknow, and have I not felt 
the many ills, the peculiar ills thai 
is heir to ? You shall have your choice of a 
the unpublished poems I have ; and had you 
letter had my direction so as to have reache 
me sooner (it only came to my hand this mc 
ment), I should have directly put you out < 
suspense on the subject. 1 ouly^ask^tm 



I clubbed a s 


are in th 


motives. Nc 




ny remarkable 






%uch a 


flings, follies, 


and backs 


myself might J 


erhaps gh 


se appellation 




llowever triflin 


j, irAheL 


any good 1 


at occurs 



No. csin. 

TO DR MOORE. 

Ellidand, 2S(A February, 1T91. 
I do not know, sir, whether you are a sub- 
scriber to Grose's Antiquities of Scotland. li 
you are, the inclosed poem will not be altoge- 



the principal end I h: 



:n copies of the proof- 
this is one. Should you have 
before, still this will answer 



nity of thanking you fol 



still employed in the way y 



friends after they have pas 

"Whether, after all, either 
be of any real service to t 
very problematical ; but 
highly gratifying to the In 
orthodox test, I forget v 
sfjs, "whatsoever is no 



siety,. and is of positive uijojmcnt, is of God, 
he giver of all good things, and ought to be 
■eceived and enjoyed by his creatures with 



mistress, who is gone to the world of spirits. 

The ballad on Queen Mary was begun while 
I was busy nith Percy's Reliques of English 
Poetry. By the way, how much is every 
honest heart, which has a tincture of Caledo- 
nian prejudice., obliged to you for your glorious 
story of Buchanan and Targe. 'Twas an un- 
equivocal proof of your loyal gallantry of soul, 
giving Targe the vieu.-v.' I 5 Uv.id have been 
mortified to the ground if you had not. 

I have just read over, once more, of many- 
times, your Zeluco. I marked with my pencil, 

I am disposed to think unequal to the merits of 

scribe these marked passages, or at least so 
much of them as to point where they are, and 
send them to you. Original strokes that strong- 
ly depict the human heart, is your and Field- 
ing's province, beyond any other novelist I 

perhaps be excepted ; but, unhappily, his 

world ; and however they may captivate the 
unexperienced, romantic fancy of a boy or a 
girl, they will ever, in proportion as we have 
made human nature our study, dissatisfy our 



a mighty tax-gatherer before the Lord," and 
have lately had the interest to get myself rcnk- 



=hali fall into the file o 

ieath of the Earl cf Glei.cairn ; the patron 
rom whom all my fame and good fortune took 
its rise. Independent of my grateful attach- 
ment to him, which was indeed so strong that 
t pervaded my very soul, and was entwined 



in the excis 

ness than otherwise it will be. Though fhi 

thank Heaven, I can live^/d rhymers I'am 
and as to my boys, poor little fellows I if i 

life as I could wish, I shallf if I am favourec 
so much of the Disposer of events as to sei 
that period, fix them on as broad and indepen 






, ,/ in 



o' the gentry. 

But I am got on a subject, which, however 

quence to you ; so I shall give you a short 
poem on the other page, and close this with 
assuring ycu how sincerely I have the honour 



presented lo a >m jot 
of The Rotc-lud. 



No. CXIV. 
FROM DB MOORE. 

BBARSIB, Lcndon, 20!h March. 1791. 
■^ ant letter of the 28th of February 1 received 
only two days ago, and this day I had the 
plei-ure of waiting on the Her. Mr Baird, at 
the Duke of Athole's, who had been so oblig- 

ver»es on Mi, u ty ('.;,, , tlie K'egy on CapL 
Henderson, and the A'pi'.'apn. There are many 
poetical beauties in the former: what I parti- 
cularly admire ore the three striking similes 

" Or like ike snow falls in the ri.tr, 
and the eight lines which begin with 

" By this time he was cross the ford ;" 
to exquisitely expressive of the superstitious 

•' Coffius stood round like open presses, - 
which, in my opinion, are equal lo the ingie- 



DIAMOND CABINB1 LIBRARY. 



rhich I Mil 



A- fo 



li the v. 



ie Efegj 



nhel 



derfulU pleasing, in the Epitaph. 

I remember you once hinted before 
you repeat in jour last, that you had made 
some remarks on Zvluco, on the margin. I 
should be rerjj glad to see them, and regret too 
did not send ili.ui before the last edition, which 
is jusl published. Pray transcribe them for 
me, sincerely I value your opinion very highly, 
and pray do not suppress one of those in which 
. the sentiment nl 

etween us— 
I am not akin to the Bishop of (Jieunda. 

mind for some lime: I cannot help thinking 

■ natural to 
I friends, particularly 

subject, but 
this ought lo be .lone under promi- 






SUE 



Ifyoucbs 

lop of Dun] 
membered to 



roold hare joe 
ription: io pro-. 
j. elf with plea- 

impositiona, I wish you 
n English. You hare 
in Scottish sufficiently. 



urite to my friend Mrs Duo. 
She must not judge of the 



:o (ell you that when jtfj 



subscriptions- I wish I coul 
hours' conversation with jou- 
tbings to sav which I canoot wi 
go to Scotland, I will let you k 



9 make a 



No. L\V. 
TO THE REV. ARC1IU. ALISON. 
Elluland, near Dumfries, UlA Feb. 1791. 



ie of I hen, 



t, I,-, u 






•men. VouJ.Ji,: 



' , 



as acknowledged Ihe receipt of it. 

you yourself are to blame for it. Fluttered »> 1 

"was by your telling roe that you wished Is h.m 

my opinion of the work, the old spiritual BM 

my of in injrind, who knows well lliat vanity it 

one of the sins that most esaill 

il into my head lo ponder over the pcrforiuaiic. 

with the look-out uf a critic, and to draw u( 

forsooth a deep learned digest of stricture* or 

I lid not even know the tir.t pun- 
1 on ii. sir, that at tirst glance, scleral 
; .. sitions startled me as paradoxical. 
That the martial clangor of a trumpet hat 
something in it ^asll\ more grand, heroic, and 
sublime, than the twingle twaugh . 
hurp ; that the delicate flexure of ■ i 
when ihe hall-blown tl.. 

Iraulil'ill 
i lun Ihe upright stub of a burdock ; 
and lhal from something innate and indepen- 
dent of all association of Ideas •— these I bad 
. orthodox truths, until 
i took .hook SB] faith. 

Cometr,,. 
I m) father's 

■ 



BURN S LETTER S. 



eon I held the plough, I never read a book 
v. b cfa gave me such a quantum of information, 
and added so mnch to my stock of ideas as 
jour "Essays on the Principles of Taste." 

the language. To clothe abstract 

in elegance of style, sounds something like a 

contradiction in terms ; but you have convinced 

I inclose you some poetic bagatelles of my 



TO SIR CUNNINGHAM. 

12th March, 1791. 
If the foregoing piece be worth your strictures, 

that I have just composed, always appears 
through a double portion of that partial medium 
in which an author will ever view his own 
works. I believe, in general, novelty has 
something in it that inebriates the fancy, and 
not unfrequently dissipates and fumes a v. ay like 

as usual, with an aching heart. A striking in- 

lion of many a hymeneal honeymoon. But lest 
I sink into stupid prose, and so sa 
intrude on the office of my parish priest, I shall 
£11 up the page in my own way, and give you 

well as the former. 

You must kiow a beautiful Jacobite air. 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes home. 
"When political combustion ceases to be the ob- 
ject of princes and patriots, it then, you know, 
becomes the lawful prey of historians and 



The church is 
Delusions, op; 
We dare na y 



friend, how much you would oblige me, if, by 
the charms of your delightful voice, you would 
give my honest effusion to " the memory of 
joys that are past, " to the few friends whom 
you indulge in that pleasure. But I have 
scribbled on till I hear the clock has inlimaud 
the near approach of 
"That hour o' night's black arch the key. 

So good-night to you ! Sound be your sleep 
and delectable your dreams ! Apropos, how do 
you like this thought in a ballad, I have just 
now on the tapis ? 

i look to the west, when I gae to rest, 
That happy my dreams and my slumbers 



1 that is dear to my baby and me '. 
at, once more, and God bless you ! 

No. CXVII. 
TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Ellislatid, Uth April, 1791. 



rer be peace till Jamie comes han 

\ sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld 
rer be peace till Jamie comes hame. 
a burden (hat bows me down, 



ri Of VI 



r friendship, 



ever, life is chequered- joy and sorrow— for on 

present of a fine boy ; rather stouter but not so 
handsome as your god-son was at his time 
of life. Indeed I look on your little namesake to 
be my chef d'ceuvre in that species of manu- 
facture, as 1 look on Tarn o' Shanter to be my 



a spice of rognish waggery, that might, per- 
haps, be as well spared ; tut then they all so 
show, in my opinion, a force of genius, and a 
finishing polish, that I despair of ever excell- 

laid as lustily about her to-day at breakfast, as 
a reaper from the corn-ridge. That is the pe- 

sprightly damsels, that are Ired among the 
hay and heather. We cannot hope for that 
highly polished mind, that charming delicacy 

world in the more elevated stations of life, and 
■tainly by far the n 






of Venus. It is 
re, that 

nly puri- 



n be had in its native heave 
ed by some one or other of 
ly shades of affectation, and unalloyed by 



■r of Hi 



any spec 



ly good ! But as thTs^ngeli/creature 
of life, and totally denied to such a 
- the next rank of female e: " 



and facf 
of life whatever 






DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAKV. 



modesty, and unsullied p 
r-wit, and the rudimei.1 
icity of 60ul, unsuspicioi 



■mule for a 






feiiov 



lomiliatiug advice. O to le I 
, stalking in the pride of Lis id 
mid tbe solitary wild? of bis cV»- 
an in civilized life, helplessly n 
subsistence, precarious as tbe ca- 
re! Every m 



beallhy frame, a soul 
hich your high rani 
i enjoy, are the charn 



Do, let me 



No. CXYIII. 
TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 



severely under the . 
powerful individuals 
accused of barshnes; 



God help the teacher, 
by father pre- 



my frieud Clarke, when a 1 
teals him with his booby so 

head, whose skull is imperrii 
ible by any other way than a 
with a cudgel : a fellow whoi 
vours of impiety to attempt r 
of, as he has been marked a 
book of fate, at tbe almi 
Creator. 
The palrons of Moffat scho< 



among the magistracy and 
;larly, yon have much to say with a reve- 






t with, 1 



n is without bis failings ; 
jrse on that privileged plain-dealing of 
ship, which in the hour of my calamity, 
t reach forth the helping hand without "at 

liouing them their share in procuring my 
present distress. My friends, for such the 
orld calls ye, and such ye think yourselves to 
!, pass by virtues if you please, tut do, also, 
spare my follies : the first will witness in my 

Dough to the ingenuous mind without 
And since deviating more or less from 
hs of propriety and rectitude, must le 
it to human nature, do thou, fortune, 

in my power, always from myself, and 

of myself, to bear the consequences of those 
'- ' do not want to be independent thai 
but I want to be independent in niy 

bling letter to the 6ub- 

itles him to the one, 
nd his gratitude will merit the other. I 
>ng much to hear from you. Adieu. 



No. CXIX. 
FROM THE EARL OF BUCHAN. 



f September ; for which day perhaps his musi 

Suppose Mr Burns should, leaving the Nib, 
o across the country, and meet the Tweed a^ 
be nearest point from his farm — and, wan 
ering along the pastoral banks of 'Ihonisou': 
ure parent stream, catch inspiration on th< 
evious walk, till he finds Lord Buchan sitting 
n the ruius of Dryburgh. There the com- 
lendator will give him a hearty welcome, one 
y to light his lamp at the pure flame of natix 
miiis, upon the altar of Caledonian virtue. 
J perambulation of the . 
thought of tbe late Mr llilborl Elliot's and ..I 



LorU Mini 
ed grandson. 



•a, fllo 



e pr.si 



Charles V. • 1 tell him, through '.he .n Jium 


with Lord Buchan lately, the 


of his nephew's influence, that Mr Clarko is a 


renewed, and will, they hope, i< 


gentleman who will not disgrace even his pa- 


executed in the manner proposed. 


tronage. I know the merits of the cause 




lb. roughly, nnd say it, th.it my friend is fall- 




iug a sacrifice lo prejudiced ignorance, and 




God help the children of de- 




ll , i.. 1 mid persecute; by their eue- 








and reproach, under the thin disguise of cold 


TO THE EARL OF 1(1 CHAM 


MY IORD 




nks under ihc ardour . 1 


» Pi Robul linghnm. 






t, I much doubt, I dar< 



Your lordship hints at an ode for the occa 
sion : but who would write after Collins ? : 
read over his verses to the memory of Thomson 

three or four stanzas, in the way of address b 

I shall trouble your lordship with thesubjoinei 
copy of them, which, I am afraid, will be bu 

tOO k C0n H nCing a P - r °° f h °d W Uaeqaal l am t0 '- h 
how sincerely and gratefully I have the honou 



No. CXXL 

FROM THE SAME. 

Dryburgh Abbey, 18th September, 1791. 

weU received by the public : and though I 
should disapprove of your allowing Pegasus to 
ride with you oif the field of your honourable 
and useful profession, yet I cannot resist an 

to'vour 6 muse, Harvest Horn.; as all 

t for her grateful song, in which the 



peculiar aspec: 









3 of Scotland, for th< 
happy moments of leisure and recess, from 
your more important occupations. 

Your Ha'' il , , au - ' - A \ will 



native country, and were happily written in 
the dialect of the people ; but Harvest Home 
being suited to aescriptive poetry, except 
where colloquial, may escape the disguise of a 
dialect which admits of no elegance or dignity 
of expression. Without the assistance of any 

.in muse, you may convey in epistolary 
form the description of a scene so gladdening 
and picturesque, with all the concomitant 

trasting the peace, improvement, and happiness 
of the borders of the once hostile nations of 
Britain, with their former oppression and 
misery, and showing, in lively and beautiful 
colours, the beauties and joys of a rural life. 
And as the unvitiated heart is naturally dis- 

of prosperity, such a subject would furnish you 

the names of nd your other 

eminent benefactors ; which, from what I 
f your sp«-i 



poems and letters, will u 



LETTERS. - 
tity of praise 



No. CXXII. 
TO LADY E. CUNNINGHAM. 



I would, as usual, have availed myself of the 
privilege your goodness has allowed me, of 
sending you any thing I compose in my poeti- 

shock of my irreparable loss would allow me, 

mined to make that the first piece I should do 
myself the honour of sending you. Had the 
wing of my fancy been equal to the ardour of 

w'.rtb;, jour perusal ; as it is, I beg leave to 
lay it at your ladyship's feet. As all the 
world knows my obligations to the late Earl of 
Glencairn, I would wish to show as openly 
that my heart glows, aud shall ever glow, 
with the most grateful sense and remembrance 
of his lordship's goodness. The sables I did 
myself the honour to wear to his lordship's 

Nor shall my gratitude perish with me :- If, 
among my children, I shall have a son that 
has a heart, he shall hand it down to his child 



t to say, my lady, that if you 



No. CXXIIL 
TO MR AINSLIE. 



lind diseased ? Can 

>f nenitence, regret, 

and all the rest 



f the hounds of hell, tl . 

rretch, who has been guilty of the sin of 

roubled soul ? 
Miserable perdu that I am, I have tried every 



:k of the clock as it slowly—slowly 
n these lazy scoundrels of hours, 



dty me. My wife scolds n 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



re bitter la] 
flten 1 tell jou even . . 
Las lost its power to please, you will gue; 
something, of my hell within, and all aroun 
me I began Elibanks end EjibracF, but d 



1 by the date, it had lain for some 

-have answered it immediately on receiving 
but the truth was, the bustle of boaineas, 
;ajrements and confusion of one kind or an- 
ter, in which I found myself immersed all 

: of my power. But to have done with apo- 
ies, let me now endeavour to prove myself 
some degree deserving of the very flattering 
npliment you pay me, by giving you at least 
deal did, A il should not Le a judi- 

itfeis, in my opinion, 
ly excellent. The old tradition which >,,,. 
fe taken up is (he best adapted for a Baccha- 
ian composition of any I have ever met with, 
1 you have done it full justice. In the first 
. ice, the strokes if v, it arise naturally from 
the subject, and are uncommonly happy. For 

" The bands grew the tighter the more they 

"Cynthia hinted she'd find them next 



No. CXXIV. 
FROM SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD. 
Near Maybole, 16/A OcJo&er, 1791. 

Accept of my thanks for your favour with lb 
friend, and your worthy patron, the perusal c 



,cf> 



igularly happy in 

oes, anJu.^n :,: S 
ind language suitable to 
. And, lastly, you have much 
delicacy of the panegyric which 
itrived to throw on each of the 
S07i<r, perfectly appropriate to his 
lhe compliment to Sir Robert, the 
is peculiarly line. In short, this 
in my o '-- 



a lin, 



void i. 



e beyond (he grave; wl 



departed friend ; 
that loss -we have 



h this hope for our 
>erate our grief for 
1 ; knowing that he ! 



JOHN WHITEb'UOKD. 



No. CXXV. 
FROM A. F. TYTLER, ESI}. 

Edinburgh, 27th Nov. 17!*] 



; rather than that 



your poem of the sain. 



.position. It is that it speaks the language 
ruth and of nature. The elnn^e .-, in n.y 
.ion, injudicious loo in this respect, that an 
( bard has much less need of a patron and 
lector than a J/OtOlg one. 1 have thu: :.i\ en 



ItURNS LETTERS. 

. Had I a 



lan my genuine senti- 

pieasure to hear from 
ire, and I beg jou will 



No. CXXVL 

TO MISS DAV1ES. 

It is impossible, madam, that the generous 
warmth and angelic purity of ye 

under which I unhappily must rank as the 



ed, a lethargy of con- 
: snakes ; beneath the 
aed into the torpor of 



a the subject of a silly h: 



]"'. : 


ght mocke 


y of these 


ardent feel- 






t to a dying 


friend. 








Gracious Heaven 


why this 


disparity he- 


tween our wishes an 




rs ? Why is 


the most 






others blest, 




and ineffee 








es the pathl 




In my walks 


of life 1 




h a few people to whom 


how gladly would 1 1 




s G ha-e e been 


py! I k 








wounded 


by the scon 








placed abo 




v. L ;Vj i.l 




aps, placed 


many of the 


comforts 








rock, Ind 


ependence, 


and look ju 






eness of so 


nl. Make 




tl-vl±,ll- U 




digna.ion, 


and the fool- 


ish sink b 








happiness 












lo bestow 








Why, 






ke from this 






nd find it 


all a dream" ? 






rous enthu. 




find'myse 


f poor and 


powerless, 


incapable of 



the sons', and even the daughters of men! -1 


He falls 


Down, immediately, should go fools from the 




hijfh places where misbegotten chance has 


In the field 








Our kine 


cance, as the body marches accompanied by 


While vie 


its shadow. As for a much more formidable 




class, the knaves 9 I am at a loss what to do with 


0, who 



rally fil 

Still the ineqi 



land that could give I woi 
ind I would pour delight 
juld kindly forgive, and gei 



ierable — but there is a 

distinctions of 'fortune". ' WoLfii IsTh'j 
royal of life : let there be slight degrees 
eedency among them— but let them be all 
L Whether this last sentiment be righi 

inponent feature of my mind. 

No. CXXYII. 
TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Ellisla, 

Lnks to yc 

pecting CL 
[Other-plant. I hope my poetic p 
:en heard, and will be answeret 
armest sincerity of their fullest ( 



Scene, — Afield of battle— lime of the day, even- 
ing — (he i; the victorious 
army are supposed to join in the following 

SONG OF DEATH. 

Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and 

Now gay with the broad setting sun ; 



Thou grim king of te 



HAM0N15 CABINET LIURAKY. 
re rise to the fore. 



friend, M'Donald's collection of Highland 
airs ; I was struck with one, an Isle of Skjf 
tune, entitled Oran an Aoic;, or, The Song of 
Death, to the measure of which 1 have adapts ' 





N 


. CXXVIII. 










TO 1\ 


RS DUNLOP 












Slh Janua 


ry, 


1 


r92. 


a' 


my hurri 


d life, madam 


I 
, I 


I 


n only 

:,! T ". 


i'i 


• tirnl.ni 


r e fo C r 0r t r he P Bo d a e r 


^ 


t 


Com- 



Alas ! how little do the wantonly or 



Dumfries, 22d January, 17D2. 
I sit down, mv dear Sir, to introduce a your-.? 
lady to jou, and a lady in the first ranks of 
fashion loo. Whatata-k! tojou-who 
no more for the herd e.f animals called y. 
ladies, than you do for the herd of anil 
called young gentlemen. To you — n lie 
spise and detest the groupings and com! 



e dimmest shades. Mrs Riddel 
ethis leter to to»n with her an 
I, is a character that, even in you 
s a naturalist and a philosopher 



she begged to be known to yc 
going lo pay her tirst vimi i 

friend, Craigdarroch, to liav 
ily West 

ad\'» nu-rits, she lias one uniuekj failing, 
failing which "■". r '. as sh « 



you, my dear friend, and 1,1 
tlest and sincere,.! of jourfr 

good' things attend you an, 
tliey are scattered over the en 



et of it, than 
you with the 



No. CXXX. 

TO MS W- NICOL. 

20th February, 1799. 
O thou, wisest among the wise, meridian 
blaze of prudence, full moon of discretion, a, . I 
eh, .i of many counsellors I How infinitely is 
i!n puddle-headed, lattle-headed, wrong-head- 



BVRNS — LETTERS. 



149 



ed, round-headed slave indebted to thy super- 
eminent goodness, that from the luminous path 
of thy own right-lined rectitude, thou lookfet 

li,-:- z i zas wanderings defy all the powers of 
calculation", from the simple copulation of units, 
up to the hidden mysteries of fluxions ! May 



[worthy of the fac 



:-r of n: 



antipode of folly, and _ 

the wise and witty Willie Nicol! Amen! 

Amen! Yea, so be it! 

For me ! I am a beast, a reptile, and know 

amid the fogs of my dulness, and pi 
fumes of my political heresies I look up to thee ; 
as doth a toad throush the iron-tarred lucerne 
of a pestiferous dungeon, to the cloudless glory 
of a summer sun! Sorely sighing in bitterness of 

delight of the goal v, like 'the illustrious lord of 
Laggan's many hills V* As for him, his works 



t own with too much appearance of truth. 
ios, do you know the much admired 
ighland air called The Sldpr's Dcchler 1 
l first-rate favourite of mine, and I have 

. will send it to you as it "was sung with 

Major Robertson of Lude, who was here wilt 

There is one commission that I must trouble 

much. I have gotten one'cf your Highland 
pebbles, which 1 fancy would make a very de- 
cent one; and I want to cut my armorial 

bearing on it; will you be so obliging as in- 

culat'ed, as the heralds call it, at ail ; but I 
have invented arms for rmself, so you know I 
shall be chief of the name; and by courtesy ot 



e fr.ir 



,1 the L 



hatred fly at his dwelli 

Thon mirror of purity, when shall the elfine 

from sensual appetites and gross desires, shir 
like the constellation of thy intellectual power: 
— As for thee, thy thoughts are pure, and tl 
lips are holy. Never did the unhallowt 
breath of the powers of darkness, and tl 
pleasures of darkness, pollute the sacred flan 
of thy sky -descended and heaven-bound desire; 



O that 






e the tenor of n 



ah aid. —May thy pity and thy prayer be exer 
cised for, O thou lamp of wisdom and mirro 
of morality 1 thy devoted slave, f 



the colours, a wood-lark perching on a sprig of 

the top of the crest, lYooa-notes wild. At the 
bottom of ihe shield, in the usual place, Belter 
a wee bitsh than nae bieid. By the shepherd's 
pipe and crook I do not mean the nonssn^e of 
Arcadia 5 but a Slocked Horn, and 
a Club, such as you see at the head of Allan 

tie Shepherd. By the bye, do vou know Allan ? 
He must be a man of very great genius. "Why 
is he not more known ? Has he no patrons ? 
or do " Poverty's cold wind and crushing 
rain beat keen and heavy" on him? I once, 



cght it; tut I was 






raid 



No. CXXXL 


I have no reason to "imagine my soul a noLier 




one than any other man's, I must conclude that 


TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 






sessor, at which the man, in his native poverty, 


3d March, 17£2. 


would have revolted. What has led me to th.s.is 


Since I wrote to "you the last lugubrious sheet, 


the idea of such merit as Mr Allan pcssesste.and 


I have not had lime to write vou farther. 




"When I say that I had not time, that, as usu- 


-. and why thej do not form a muiual 


al, means, that the three demons, indolence, 


league. Let wealth shelter and cherish unpro- 


business) and ennui, have so completely shared 


tected merit, and the gratitude and celebrity cf 




that merit yyill richly repay it. 






Thank heaven, I feel my spirits buoying up- 








in good earnest take up Thomson's songs. I 


No. C5XXEL 


dare say he thinks I have used him unkindly, and 






TO MRS DTJNLOP. 


* Mr Nicol. 


Annan Water Foot, 22d August, 1792. 


T This strain of irony was excited by a letter 




cf Mr Nicol'si containing good advice. 


science, hacknied and weaiher-beaun as it is, 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



in watching and reproving my vagar 
lies, indolence, &c has continued t< 
and punish me sufficiently. 



addition, that «< 



Do you think i 



«, lost to gra 



titude for many fa 

■worth, and to the honest, kind, pleasurable t 

sure, of prog) ssive inci ' _ friendship— ai 

the Fates°what they are doing and about to c 
■with my much loved friend and her wide sea 
tered connexions, and to beg of them to be : 
kind to you and yours as they possibly can ? 
Apropos, (though how it is apropos, I ha' 
--'- : n0 do yon fcr-~ •< 

HUmo7trsaidI- 
head and ears, dee 
abyss of the bouni 
Love, owing to me mu 
good and the bad, the pun 



an acquaint 
> as the 






„rny or 
;.u:';. li- 



the coarse, polluted, far inferior sons of men, 
to deliver to them tidings that make their 
hearts swim in joy, and their imaginations soar 
in transport — such, so delighting, and so pure, 

other day with Miss L — B — , your neighbour 

at M Mr B. with his two daughters, 

accompanied by Mr H. of G. passing through 
Dumfries a few days ago, on their way to 
England, did me the honour of calling on me ; 
on which I took my horse (though God 
knows I could ill spare the time), and accom. 
panied them fourteen or fifteen miles, and 
dined and spent the day with them. 'Twas 
about nine, I think, when I left them ; and 
riding home, I composed the following ballad, 
of which you will probably think you have a 

old ballad beginning with 

" My bonnie Lizzie Baillie, 



ling it has many good things i 



lect that Solonx 
logue of the mi! 
lieve that there i 



ies, with this endear! 



times have I made this apos- 

as ever thought fit to answer the 
O that some courteous ghost 

;nd, must make the experiment 
and for ourselves. However, 
inced that an unshaken faith in 
of religion is not only necessary, 
better men, but also by making 
en, that I shall take every care 
e god-son, and e' 



, shall bi 



aught 



i ends this heterogeneous 1 
wild place of the world, it 
my labour of discharging a *e 



o the sacred purity of m 

:hment. Know then, that the heart-si 
>, the distant humble approach, the delight 
s should have in gazing upon and liste ' 
a Messenger of Heaven, appearing in al 






No. CXXXIII. 
TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 

Dumfries, 10ZA September, 1 
will net attempt an apology — Ai 






ns, and singing them ; and, o\ 
all, the correcting the press-work 
different publications ; still, stiU I migl 
tolen five minutes to dedicate to one 
irst of my friends and fellow-creatu 
night have '— 



a page or t< 

might have thanked 
for the honour they h; 
do myself justice, I 
Loth in rhyme, else I 
now). Well, then, 
health ! for you must 
perkin of toddy by rr 



; time of night, '—and 

1 his marriage ; or I 
te Caledonian archers 
e done me (though to 



just by way of spell, 



nightly 



uanuealed," as 



. ; LuI 



said," What" 






5ver°thou F makest thyself vi 

le by the eerie side of an aiuu mum, m 

reary glen through which the herd callau 

;! Be thou a brownie, set, at dead of 
_ , to thy task by the blazing ingle, or in 
the solitary born where the repercussions of 
" il half affright thjself, as thon per- 






le roaring of the flood, as thou 



BURNS LETTERS. 



Jr, lastly, be thou a ghost, paying thy uoctu 
lal visits to the hoary ruins of decayed grai 
ieur; or performing thy mystic rites in tl 
ihadow of thy time-worn church, while tl 



d Deity ! — Come, thou spiri 



who is quite jaded in the attempt to share half 
an idea among half a hundred words ; to nT — 
four quarto pages, while he has not got 
single sentence of recollection, information 



Lours with Nonsense No. 

name ! Tulor, friend, and 
mystic mazes of law; the c: 



and Truth creeping hi 






o, leaving Common 



se, Religious Nonsei 
Only, byVe bye, will 



or any other of your Scui..= u 

ding, display 

in my plough-boy days, I could not conceive it 
possible that a noble lord could be a fool, or a 









as Fortune, Connexions, Education, (I 
education extraordinary,) Family Blood, 
&c. divide the f o iui.,;, agrees among 

ons, for there is not any one of 'them, in 

for the rest of my fancies and reveries— 

t lately met with Miss L B , 

nost beauiiful, elegant woman in the 
I- how I accompanied her and her 
father's family fifteen miles on their journey, 

e works of God, in such an unequalled 
ty of ihem_how, iu ealloping home at 
, I made a baiiad on her, of v,hich these 



He'd 


^ 


'ca£ 


"^ngthee." 


ehold 


all these 

s of my 
hee, my 
use, my o 


thing 

c-ar 1 


ar friend, 


ten in the 

d shall be 


':='\ 


ipanion, 
forth by 

cuirlit fc 


e L-i-.e 


thy befo 
n the prec 

!he moo 


e-designed 
ous things 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



No. CXXXIV. 
TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Dumfries, 24th September, 1792. 



11 :•'■■< 






lnno, convulsed with every horror th; 
harrow the human feelings— sick— lo< 
longing for a comforter, but finding 



i cannot say that 1 give him joy of his life as : 
farmer. 'Tis, as a farmer paying a dear, 
nscionable rent, a cursed life I As to ■ 



in- his 






own corn in°hope; 

brittle weather, in gladness ; knowing that 
none can say unto him, "what dobt thon?" 
--fattening his herds; shearing his flocks; 
rejoicing at Christmas; and begetting 



rated, e 



Ine! I 



nother m 
fell, your I 



:ind wishes will be gratified, a 

months' race is run, which may, perhaps, be i 
three or four weeks. She, too, seems deter 
mined to make me the patriarchal leader of 
band. However, if Heaven will be so obligin. 



plea 



) one girl, I shall bt _ 

d. I hope, if I am spared with them 

w a set of boys that will do honour to m; 

F rearing girls. Besides, I am too poor 
1 a fortune. Apropos 



le god-sc 



is thru 



inglj. » 



He, though two years 
has completely mastered his brother. 
I indeed the mildest, gentlest crea- 
:rsaw. He has a most surprising 
and is quite the pride of his school- 
tow how readily we get into prattle 



TO MRS DUNLOP. 
n TO HAVE BKEN WRITTEN 



your letter until my return th 
What shall I say to comfort you 
valued, much-afflicted friend! I "can but 



- til lidreiL of affliction I 






J pi-oee 



Alas, madam ! who would wish for many 
ears ? What is it but to drag existence until 
ur joys gradually expire and leave us in a 
iglu of misery ; like the gloom which blots 
ut the stars one by one, from the face of 
ight, and leaves us, without a ray of comfort, 

I am interrupted, and must leave off. You 



No. CXXXVI. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

Dumfries, 6th Deceviber, 1792. 
I shall be in Ayrshire, I think, next week ; 
and if at all possible, I shall certainly, my 
much-esteemed friend, have the pleasure of 
visiting at Dunlop-house. 

Alas, madam ! how seldom do wemeetinthis 
world, that we have reason to congratulate our- 

passed half the ordinary term of an old man's 
life, and yet I scarcely look over the obituary 
of a newspaper, that I do not 6ee some names 
that I have known, and which I, and other 
acquaintances, little thought to meet with 

mortality of our kind, makes us cast an anxious 
look into the dreadful abyss of uncertainty, and 
shudder with apprehensions for our own fate. 



A few 



n the < 



>, I could h; 



of the m 

these most helpless individuals, would, on 
losing me and my exertions, lose both their 
"staff and shield." By the way, these 
helpless ones have lately got an addition ; 
Mrs B. having given me a fine girl since I 
wrote you. There is a charming passage in 
Thomson's Edward and Elcanoru, 



BURNS LETTERS. 



As I am got in the way of quotations, I shall Amid this mighty fuss 

give you another from the same piece, pecu- The Mights of Woman 
liarly, alas, too peculiarly apposite, my dear : 

madam, to your present frame of mind : First, in the sexes' i 

! One sacred Eight of V 

" "Who so unworthy but may proudly deck The tender flower that 



rough winds rage aloud J 



ggle of this t: 






And offices . 
With all i 



in for double postage, so I shall 



pLV^Hou' 

deed, Heaven 


? dom. Inde 
on ourselves 


ms of the r 
in spirit, c 

y humble' 


to gag me. V, 
you will find ou 


?withou P t r an a 


nter^ 


I have taken 


up the snbje 


tinanothe 



and the other day, for a pretty actress's bene) 

yon on the other page, called The Riglds of 
Woman. 

THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 



Helpless, must fall before the blast of fate 
Sunk to the earth, defaced its lovely form, 
shelter ward tu' impel 



Our second Right — but needles 

To keep that right inv Mate's the fasl 
"--"- man of sense has it so full befoi 
die befors 






iVow, well-bred men— and you ar 

Most justly think (and we are 
gainers) 

For Sight the third, our last, ou 
That right to 'fluttering female 
Which even the Rights of Kings ir 
Most humbly own — 'tis dear, dear i 



rher< 






life of HI 



Smiles, glances, sighs, 



With bloody armaments and revolutions ; 
Ah ! ca ira I The Majesty of Woman ! 



No. cxxxvir. 

TO MISS B , OF YORK. 

MADAM, 2 lit March, 179J 



allusion to the saturnalia of the 



charming long prospect of 
, meetings with them in af 

ww, iu this shor 
^ fleeting existence; 
i the Chapter of A. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAKY. 

ij hap- • in him an irresistibh 

when you now and then, 



the miseries belonging to it, that if then 

"ou despis™ the ill run of the.chancess 

so against you, that in the overtakings 

lucky corner etenially comes the wretcl 
you, and will not allow your indigna 

to be the doings of that old aulhor of mi 



ii, j y.i ■ '' ,' = ''is'^!l_T'liow J m S uch T admired'he'r 



foi 



d her w 

-a*™ '^"de^r^aam'TtTs" 
entertain no hopes of the very great pleasure of 
meeting with you again. 

Miss H tells me that she is sendine a 

packet to yc 



ough, t 



I jou 



may have an opportunity of declaring with 
how much respectful esteem 1 have the honour 

No. CXXXVIII. 

TO MISS C 

MADAM, August, 1793. 

Some rather unlooked-for accidents have pre- 
vented my doing myself the honour of a second 
visit to Arbiegland, as I was so hospitably in. 

However, I still hope to have that pleasure be- 

I inclose you two of my late pieces, as some 
Kind return for the pleasure I have received in 
perusing a certain MS. volume of poems in the 
possession of Captain Riddel. To repay one 
with an old song, is a proverb, whose force you , 

of illustrious descent is, I believe, equally true 
of a talent for poetry; nc" - 



•s of tl 



: fates 









lislead him from tl 
se him with a keen, 

; "lastly, fill up tl 



infamy, and plunging tl 

in ; Net where 

prospect of paradisaical bl 
of a northern sun, rising i 
compared with the many ] 

of the heart of Maul 



No. CXXXIX. 
TO JOHN M'MURDO, Esq. 



hermit's solitary 
is but the glitter 



n d anu P e7inwhfch 



ore than 1 could 
netting of a col- 



uioh bank notes. 



BURNS— LETTERS. 



No. CXL. 
TO SIRS B 



The Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret; to which 
please add. The Spoiled Child— you will high- 
ly oblige me by so doing. 

There n7w%hts cursed gloomy blue-devil day", 
you are going to a party of choice spirits — 

«• To play the shapes 



Where lively wit excites to gay surprise ; 
Or folly-painting humour, grave himself, 
Calls laughter forth, deep-shaking ever 



No. CXLI. 
TO A LADY, 



honour my friend with your presence on his 
benefit night. That night is fixed for Friday 
first; the play a most interesting one. 'The 
wan In keep Him. I have the pleasure to 
know Mr G. well. His merit as an actor is 
generally acknowledged. He has genius and 



good things of this life i 
does brazen-fronted im 
" rightful due 



sordid wretches are thev, however chauce may 
have loaded them withVealth, who go to their 
graves, to their magnificent mausoleums, with 

poor honest heart happy ! 



TO MR 



this: I am on the 
ve come on there by 



le head of 



come, a life 


e^hfdecen 


sure. A lif 


iterary leisu 










It would be 


)rudish affec 


ation of silly pr 




hat I do not 


need or would n 


ot be indebte 




nd ; at the sam 












"lift? Tn o'e 


ence. If, ir 


my progress of 






where the good 


ffice's of a ge 


man of yoni 








might bring m 


forward, I 



low do myself the honou 



No. CXLIIL 
TO MRS 



lobster-coated puppies, sitting like another 
dragon, guarding the Hesperian fruit. On 
the conditions and capitulations you so oblig- 
ingly offer, I shall certainly make my weather- 



Among the profusion of idle compliments 
!. ich insidious craft, or unmeaning folly in- 
essantly offer at your shrine— a shrine, how 

rere it but for rarity's sake, to pay you the 
onest tribute of a warm heart, and an inde- 
endent mind ; and to assure yon, that I am, 
sou most amiable, and most accomplished of 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



No. CXLIV. 

TO THE SAME. 

on you, my ever-valued friend, bnt 
the .ncr.iii^ lam not sure. Sun- 
. period of our curst revenue busi- 
may probably keep me eniployed 
m nnt.l noon. Fine employment 
5 pen ! Tbere is a species of the 
us that I call the gin-horse class : 
)le dogs they are ! Round, and 



herSli 


t, altogether Nove 




se of fretful ness 




h of the one lo ro 


nor of I 




soul flo 


uncing and flutter 




e a wild finch, can 


rs of wit 


ter, and newly thr 



■where it dare not squeak : and if — . . . 

Pray that wisdom and bliss be morefrequei 

R. B. 

No. CXLV. 

TO THE SAME. 

I have this moment got the song from S 



deal. It sh: 
him any thin 
lave sent you 



n. But I h 
1 write or sf 
1 proudly se 



No. CXLVI. 

TO THE SAME. 

I Lave often told you, my dear 
J on had a spice of caprice in your , 
Em! you have as often disavowed i 



haps while your opinions were, at the moment, 
irrefragably proving it. Couid any ihisg 
estrange me from a friend such as you ?— No >. 
To-morrow I shall have the honour of waiting 



No. CXLYII. 
TO THE SAME. 



rrench that my heart can ill bear. It is, 
owever, some kind of miserable good luck, 
bat while de-haut-en-bas rigour may depress 

Bncleney to rouse a stubborn something in his 
osom, which, though it cannot heal the 

lunt their poignancy. 
Wiih the profoundest respect for your abili- 

lers; and 'the most fervent wish and prayer 






:■ w-r 



No. CXLVIII. 

TO JOHN SYME, ESQ. 

You know that among other high dignities 
you have the honour to be my supreme coul 

appeal. 1 inclose yon a song which I coin 



istory of it. Do you know t 
h that I admire in the charact 
s of those great folks whom I hi 
lourtocallmy acquaintances, 



nore than Mr O. 's » 
o that incomparable 
uy dear Syme, meet 
nore to the Divine ( 
han Mr O. ? A fi] 



who owe 



!1 good tl 



ra 

enious upright mind, and that informed 
mch beyond the usual run of young fel- 
f his rank and fortune ; and to all this, 
. woman ! — bnt of her I shall say nothing 

song, I have endeavoured to do justice 



BURNS LETTKKS. 



to what wonld be his feelings i 
ecene I have drawn, the habita 
As I am a good deal pleased w 



No. CXL1X. 
TO MISS 



Nothing short of a kind of absolute 
could have made me trouble you wit! 



ul. The scenes I have past wit 
my soul, and his amiable connej 

le wanderings™"? a" wewy "orta ; 






No. CL. 
TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 

25th February, 1784. 
Canst thou minister to a mind diseased ? 
Cans! thou speak peace and rest to a soul lossed 
on a ,ea of troubles, without one friendly star 
to guide her course, and dreading that the next 
surge may overwhelm her ? Canst ihou give to 
a frame tremblingly alive to the tortures of 
suspense, the stability and hardihood of the 






faf 


rolence° I c 


e%a 


on my guard; 
uity of giddy c 


aptic 


r« 


'■:■/■:'■■ 


off the un 


nmk 




recip 


tate 


I 


ave a favourj 


request of you 


■l"- : 


am. 


mean 


3. YoVk 


...V,, 


'that, at th'e'w 






tend, 1 t.t 








iriel 


man 


of them 1 




s ome r of W t r hem"p 


I,.- 


are 
and 




and all o 








As I 




litt 


e fame at stak 






that 




r live 


, when the ha 


e of 




















of 








pone 


my super 


^ns 


otobirvi'on.T 


11' 'ti 


'as-! 






e of 








:.lrs 






the goodness 






them 








plec 




tr.„ 


dship they 




bestowed ; an 


tha 










was all their m 




Mo=t 


poss 




opt 


latMreL. ' 


no 1 


.t:g=r 


whi 


h I weU k 


now, 


and ever will r 


vere 


will 


* 


The song 


nclo 


ed was the one 


b-i 


ming 


Yvi'h 












■« wa 


yev 


ha'sin yon tow 











-?'■' 




htn 






liV 


r„l". ,f It 


'or 


igibility. 


im 


but 


his 




1 there are 




' 




tha 






mid the wt 












The 


. , . ,- 


"no 


of the c 


iffe 


"out 


tiling 




known by 








age. 




frefu 


atniuity. 


Tit 


»entt!" w 


'■;; 


;e up 


ever 1 " 


scej 


c may den 




em, or the e 


ntlut 




.Ha" 


omponent 


Dart 


'of iheh 


:; : 


'"!' 


iTtn 



._''.. 


Mi-^ 






t, wi 


i.e a" 


ay of hope 












pour, 


the balm of 


comfort 


intot 


lewou 


nds 


whic 


htime 


can never 


I do 








'j d 


» Ct 


° s » 




a: a.'l 


1 k 


DOW 


I "„ 


v.llu 


laugh at it, 








: nfi 


n^ 




ead the un- 




































h the 




ools if they 












. N 




Quarrel 


with 


u,a:i 


for 


,:= '; 


■1 ? o 


' ™?1 '"''I 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

this 



of falling, se 
add largely tc 



with the poet. Let me figure him, wandering 



gales, and enjoy t 


le growi 


,- hi:; 


uriance of th 








be blooming 


you'tho'flife. H 






n all nature 


and through natu 


eup to 




's God. His 


soul, by swift, d 
above this sublun 


elightin 


degr 


es, is wrap 


ary spbe 






silent no longer, a 








ous enthusiasm of 


Thomso 






"These, as they 


change 


Aim 


ghty Father, 



Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of thee. " 

And so on, in all the spirit and ardour of that 

C Tbese t are J no ideal pleasures ; they are real 
delights, and I ask what of the delight6 among 



and lays hold on them tc 



ing, and approving C 



is the first epistle you ev 
lis nether world. I writ 
is of Hell, amid the horr 



rival here, I was fairly 
endure the purgatorial 
confine, for the space 



impropriety of my conduct yesternight under 

low of ever-piercing thorn, while an infernal 

name I think is Recollection, with a whip of 
scorpions, forbids peace or rest to approach me, 

madam, if I could in any measure be reinstated 

in the good opinion of the fair circle whom my 



who insisted < 
drinking more than I chose, has no right to 
blame me ; and the other gentlemen were par- 
takers of my guilt. But to you, madam, I 
have much to apologize. Your good opinion 
I valued as one of the greatest acquisitions I 
had made on earth, and I was truly a beast to 



t I have not outraged her beyond all 
ss — To all the other ladies please 
ry humblest contrition for my conduct, 
letition for their gracious pardon. O, 



No. CLII. 
TO MRS DUNLOP. 

15th December, 17G5. 






,nll,. n 



,mpkt, 



ap.,1, 
shall 


„,"' 


&E 


uVeVknow 


you°" 


„,TJ 
















myy 


aungest child, has b 






every 


uav. 


a week 




ei.ed 










There had 






man 


'pic: 


sures an 


exed to the 


stales 


of hue. 



the anxious, sleepless hours 
ly give me. I see a trail 
folks ; me and my exertio 



while I— but I shall run distracted if I think 
any longer on the subject I 
To leave talking of the matter so gravely, I 



BURNS LETTERS. 



" O that I had ne'er been married, 

I would never bad nae care ; 
Now I've gotten wife and bairns, 



Ye'll crowdiea'niy n 



n ; only, as all 
noes a stagnatioi 



December 2ith. 
from the epid 



And not less anxious, 'sure, this night, than 
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, 

So, sought a Poet, roosted near the skies, 
Told him, I came to feast mj curious eves, 
Said, nothing like bis works was ever print- 

And last, my prologue-business slily hinted 

"Ma'am, let me tell you, " quoth my man of 

Can you-bu't Miss, I own I have my fears, 
AVith laden sighs, and solemn rounded sen- 
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers fell Repent- 



I could no more— askance the creature eye- 

D'ye think, said I, this face was made for cry- 

I'll lauffh, that's poz — nay, more, the world 

shall kuow it ; 
And so, your servant— gloomy Master Poet. 

Firm as my creed, sirs, 'tis my fixed belief, 
That Misery's another word for Grief: 
I also think— so may I be a bride ! 
That so much laughter, so much life en- 



laugh in Misfortune's face—the 
Say, you'll be merry, thcugh you c 



Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the 

st to meditate the healing leap : 
Idst thou be cured, thou silly, moping eif, 
Laugh at her follies— laugh e'eu at thyself: 
'.earn to despise those frowns now so terriiic, 
jidlove a kinder — that's your grand spe- 



are sincere I that blessings may attend 

haVming" words° of "my" favourite au'tho'r', 
The Man rf Feeling, "Jlay the great Spirit 
bear up the weight of thy gray hairs ; and 
■■'■'ut the arrow that brings them rest !" 

Vow that I talk of authors, how do you 

e Cowper ? is not the Task a glorious poem ? 

The religion of the Task, bating a few scraps 

of Calvinistic divinity, is the religion of God 

obles a man. Were'not you to send me your 
Zelucn in return for mine ? Tell me how you 
ike my marks and notes through the book. I 
roula not give a farthing for a book, unless 
were at liberty to blot it with my crili- 



hose rude sketches, a; 



the rhapsody of the 



ind MS. for my 

' always to v ou 



cement of our acquaintance. If tl 
y possible conveyance, I would s 
rusal of my book. 



No. CLIII. 
TO MRS DUNLOP, IN LONDON. 



Dumfries 


20ih December, 1795. 


I have been prodigi 
London journey of y 

in the J country, "a™ 


usly disappointed ill th 
reached Dumfries, 1 v. 


I thought you would 


9pS:nES 


grant that it may fir 


i you and yours in pro 






1th and good spirits. Do lc 



r8 DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

.s I hope to get a frank from my friend 
.tain. Miller, I shall, every leisure 1 
! up the pen, and gossip away wha 
ies tret, procc or poesy, sermon or i 






December 29. 
Since I began this letter I have been appointee 

assure you, what with the load of business, am 
what with that business being new to me, '. 

have spoken to you, had you been in town 
much less to have written you an epistle, 
This appointment is only temporary, and dur 
ing the illness of the present incumbent; bu 
I look forward to an early period when I shal 



sake ; and that it may yet be greatly prolonged, 
is my wish for my own sake, and for the sakf 
of the rest of your friends! What a transienl 
business is life ! Very lately I was a boy ; 

already begin to feel the ri«id fibre and'stiffen- 
irn; joints of old age con, in- last o'er my frame. 
With all my follies of youth, and, I fear, a few 
vices of manhood, still I congratulate mysell 
on having had, in early days, religion strongly 



goodne 


s, superintendi 


g and c 








f.-licila 






tion fo 












distress 




when he looks beyond 


he grave 


You 


Will have seen 01 


r worthy 


friend, 


the Doctor, Ion 


g ere th 


is well 


and beg to be r 


member 



for the hundred and fiftieth time, his View of 
Society arid Manners; and still I read it with 
delight. His humour is perfectly original — it 

nor Sterne, nor of any body but Dr Moore.' 
By the bye, you have deprived me of Ze' 



oflaz^nessl 



hen you 

of my neglect f 



i e:;,,, 



XX. 

No. CUV. 






TO MRS 






20/ft Jam 


art/, 


1736. 


press my gratitud 


to 







til 


n to any other 


tirli 


idual 


;:;:;, 


u'l 


J a son of the mu 


n.li 


pensa 






h you wished m 






• , c 




is, I think, fl 




from 


■day, 


ill 


ve not been able 
about an hour aj 


I'. 


The; 



edly unlucky advertisements I lent (I did 
wrong) to a friend, and I am ill able to go iu 
quest of him. 

The muses have not quite forsaken me. 



No. CLV. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

SUt Januarj, 1798. 
These many months you have been two pack- 
ets in my debt — what sin of ignorance I have 
committed against so highly valued a friend, I 
' " madam, 



I afford 



■ of the i 



nail n 



tthis 



, ved of 

.it of my pleasures. I 
>f the cup of affliction, 
of my only daughter 



and so rapidly, as to put it out of my power 
pay the last duties to her. I had scarcely 1 
5'un to recover from that shock, when I becai 



been before my own door in the street. 

When pleasure fascinates the mental sigh!, 

Affliction purifies the visual ray, 
Religion hails the drear, the untried night, 

That shuts, for ever shuts, life's doubtful 



No. CLVI. 
TO MRS R 



S LOYALTY. 

4 th Jura 
serable health as to 
awing my loyalty it 



Sr'l? a ? ree 'i°? l-ke that of Balak to 
Would you hare " e , i^uch ciumsmacef to 
wifuo7hf^ a h P \ S !f J ° a 0n Satnrday, but I 
miserable ' " J ° U Can ' 3nd ° bli S e * P»"»™ 



No. CLVII. 

TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 

Brow, &«J«<4< W 0««rfo- s , 7tt J%> 1796i 



BURNS—LETTERS. 



No. CLVIIL 
TO MRS BURNS. 

MY dearest love, Brow, Thursday. 



il I eou 



II,,:.- 



ik.ly ,c 






happy to hear by MiT/jessYewars 
a.e well. My very best and kindes 
nients to her and to all the children 
ieevou on Sunday. Your aft'ectioi 



No. CLIX. 

TO MRS DUNLOP. 

MADAM, 12^7^,1796. 

"l , n«rwh1ch r haTlon^T n lnW ™ C,,ie ^^^ 

probability willlpe^UI, Tend^me^'ndVat 
bourne whence „„ tJLn— _..,. _ ! )on . nat 




--ition of Alexander Can; 
«/ last was James Gienca, 



THE POEMS 



ROBERT BURNS. 



NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN 



CALEDONIAN HUNT. 



whose highest ambition is to sing in his 


liberty. In the last place, I come to proffer 


Country 's service — where shall he so properly 


my warmest wishes to the Great Fountain of 


look for patronage as to the illustrious names 


Honour, the Monarch of the Universe, for 


of his native Laud; those who bear the hon- 


your welfare and happiness. 


ours and inherit the virtues of their Ancestors ? 




The Poetic Genius of mj Country found me, 
as the prophetic bard Elijah did Elisha_at 


"When you go forth to awaken the Echoes, 




the plough ; and threw her inspiring mantle 


your forefathers, may Pleasure ever be of your 




party ; end may social joy await your return : 




When harassed in courts or camps with the 




jostlings of bad men and bad measures, may 


my wild, artless notes, as she inspired— She 


the honest consciousness of injured worth 








may Domestic Happiness, with a smiling wel- 


jour honoured protection : I now obey her die- 


come, meet you at your gates '. May corruption 










Though much indebted to your goodness, I 


in "the People, equally find you an ineiorabla 






men, in the usual style of dedication, to thank 






I have the honour to be, 


by prostituted learning, that honest rusticity is 


With the sincerest gratitude, 


ashamed of it. Nor do I present this Address 






My Lords and Gentlemen , 




Your most devoted humble servant, 


bred to the Plough, and am independent. I 




come to claim the common Scottish name with 


ROBERT BURNS. 


you, my illustrious Countrymen ; and to tell 






Edinburgh, 


congratulate my Country, that the blood of her 


April 4, 17S7. 



POEMS, 
CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. 



'Twas ia that place o' Scotland's isle, 
That hears the name o' Auld Kmg Cod, 
Upon a bonnie day in June, 
When wearing thro' the afternoon, 



The first I'll name they ca'd him Camr, 
Was keepit for his Honour's pleasure ; 



Hislocked, letter'd, braw br 

But tho' he was o' high degrei 
The fient a pride.na pride had i 
But wad hae spent an hoar car 



Ev'a with a tinkler gipsey's messin'.' 


Frae morn to e'en its nought but toiling. 


At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, 




Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie, 


An' tho' the gentry first are stechin', 


But he wad stan't, as glad to see him, 


Yet ev'n the ha' folk fill their pechan 


And stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. 


Wi' sauce, ragouts, and sic like trashtrie, 






The tither was a ploughman's collie, 


Our Whipper-in, wee blastit°wonner, 


A rhyming, ranting, raving billie, 

Wha for his friend an' comrade had him, 


Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner, 


Better than ony tenant man 


And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, 


His Honour has in a' the Ian' : 


After some dog in Highland sang,* 


An' what poor cot-folk pit their paiach in, 


Was made lang syne — lord knows how lang. 


I own its past my comprehension. 


He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke, 


L.ATH. 


As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. 


His honest, sonsie" bawsent face, 


Trowth, Cffisar, whyles they're fa 


Aye gat him friends in ilka place. 
His breast was white, Irs towzie back 




A cotter howkin in a shengh, 


Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black ; 


Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, 


His gawcie tail, wi' upward curl, 


Baring a quarry, and sic like, 


Hung o'er his hardies wi' a swurl. 


BBmsS', a wife, he thus sustains, 



Whyles mice and mondiei 



Whyles s 


:cur'd 


jvi i 


lange 


cur=lv 


An' worr 










Until svi 


darn a 


weary grown 




Upon a 1 




_ey =:- 






And ther 










About th 


lords c 


' a. 


nation. 




I'veaf 


en wo. 


der'd 


honest 


Luoth 


What so 


i o''i"f 




do-. U, 




An' wher. 


the g? 




hf t I =■ 




What w. 




sj.'ne= 


lh'd a 


ra. 



The yellow 



t, he ca'shis horse; 
, whare, thro' the st< 



Them right and tight 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Thev're maistly wonderfu' contented; 
An ' buirdly chiels, an' clever hizzies, 
Are bred ia such a way as this is. 



How huff'd, and cuff'd, and disr i 
L-d, man, our gentry care as little 
For delvers, ditchers, and sic cattle ; 
They gang as saucy by poor folk, 
As I wad by a stinking brock. 

Poor tenant boTes^scamV ca?h, Wle ' 
How they maun thole a factor's snash ; 
He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear, 
He'll apprehend them, poind their gear ; . 
V, i.iie they maun Stan', wi' aspect humble, 



They're sae accustom 


'dwi' the 


ight, 


The view o't gies them little fright". 


Then chance an' fo 


rtune are sa 


egui 


They're -»ye in less o 








close empl 




A blink o' rest's a sw 


eet enjoyme 


nt. 


The dearest comfor 


o' their li 


es, 


Their grushie weans 


-nd faithfu 




The prattlin things ai 






Thatsweete.-.a'the 


r tire-side. 




An' whyles twalpe 


line worth 


' nar 


Can mak the bodies u 






They lay aside their [ 






To mind the Kirk an 


i State afia 




They'll talk o' patron 
Wi' kindling fury in 










Or tell what new taxi 






And ferlie at the folk 


in Lon'on. 




As bleak-fac'd Hallowmas rett 


rns 


They get the jovial, r 
When rural life, o' e 










Unite in common ree 






Love blinks. Wit sla 






Forgets there's Care 


upoMh?^ 


th. 


That merry day th 


f^wt 




They bar the door on 


s; 



That I for joy hae barkit wi' them. 

Still it's owre true that ye hae salt 

Si • came is now owre aften plav'd. 
'I here's mony a creditable stock" 
O' decent, honest, fawsont folk, 



Are riven out baith root and branch, 
Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, 
Wha thinks to knit himself the faster 

Wha aiblins thrang. a-parlismentin'.. 
For Britain's guid his saul indentin' — 



Haith, lad, ye little ken about it : 
For Britain's gvia /—guid faith, I doub'. 
I Say, rather, gauu as Premiers lead him, 
: An' saying aye or no's they bid him : 



Or by Madrid he takes the rout, 

To thrum guitars and fechl wi' nowt ; 

Or down Italian vista startles, 

Then bouses drumW^erma^wate™ 5 '' 
" ' S. fair and falter, 



ear sirs : is that the gat 



For gear to gang that gate i 
O would they sf 



An' please themselv 

The Laird, the Tena 
For lhae frank, ran: 
Fient haet o' them's 


be better, 
ill'bearted fellows" 


Except for breakin* 
Or speakin' lightly c 
Or shcotin' o' a har 
The ue'era bit they 


• their limmer,' 
re ill to poor folk. 


But will ve tell m 
Sure great folk 's life 
Nae cauld or hunger 
The very thought o 


, Master Ccesar, 
'ere can'teer'then, 



L d, man, were ye but whyles where I 

The gentles ye wad ne'er envy them. 
It's true, they need na starve or sweat, 

ault 

But hun 



proportion less will hurt them. 
ry fellow at the pleugb, 
;s till'd, he's right eneugh ; 



BURNS — POEJIS. 



Her dizzens c 
But Gentlemei 



r, lounging, lank, an' la; 
Tho' deil haet ails them, vet uneas; 



The joy can scarcely reach the heart. ' 



like ony unhang'd blackguard. 



The bum-clock humm't 
The kye stood rowtin' i 
When up they gat an s 



it o* sight: 
ught the night : 
wi' lazy drone ; 
i i- the loan : 
i shook their lugs, 
1a men but dogs ; 

le ither day. 



SCOTCH DRINK. 



Till he forgets h 



: other poets rs 
' crahbit'natne 



Inglas: 



d deep carouse 



"PS, 



O Thoa, my Muse t guid anld Scotch Drink ; 

Or, richly brown, ream o'er the brink, 
In glorious faem, 

Inspire me, till I lisp and wink, 

To sing thy name. 



Le..z 



;e and Beans at e'en or morn, 
Perfume the plain. 



Thou king 

On thee aft Scotland chows her cc 

Or tumbliu' in the boiling flood, 

Wi' kail an' beef: 
But when thou 



There 

Food fills the wame, a 
ho' life's a gift no wor 






e nerves o' Laboui 

Afs weary toil ; 

htens dark Despaii 



Wi' Gentles thou erects thy head ; 

Yet humbly kind in lime o' need, 

The poor man's w 

ipparrit 





Th 


ou kitchens fin 


Thou art th 


life o 


' public haun 


iiit thee, wha 






:v'n godly me 


et.ngs 


thee inspired', 


\ hen gaping 


Are doubly fired. 



i' gusty sucker ! 



Vae mercy, then, for airn or steel ; 

e brawnie, baioie, ploughman chiel 

ings hardowrehip, wi' sturdy wheel 

The strong forehamn 

Till block ai * ' 



Wi' 



ie cian 



light, 






'hou maks the gossips clatter bright, 
[owfuEiblin'eui!= theii 

Wae worth the namt 
lae howdie gets a social night, 

Or plack frae the 

When neebours anger at a plea, 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



asy can the barley bret 
•e the cheapest lawyer 



EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER* 
TO THE 

SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES 



E'er spier her price, 
orth that brand]/, burning trai 



Ye Scots, -wha 
Ye, chief, to yo, 
Poor plackless d< 



May gravels round his blather wreucl 
An' gouts torment him inch by inch, 
Wha twists his gruntle wi" a glunch 



HOUSE OF COMMONS. 



Dearest of Distillation : last and best 

—How art thou lost ! 

Parody on Milto'u 



Ye Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squi: 
"" represent our brughs an' shires, 

)U a simple Poet's | 



humbly sent. 



Alas ! my roupet m 



Thee, Ferintosh 1 O sadly lost ! 
Scotland, lament frae coast to coas 
Now colic grips, an barkm' W,_-t, 



n glunch an' gloom f 
i ia=h jour thumb; 



Wha mak (b e Wi.nhj . 
Haud up thy ban', Oei 

An' bake them up in br 


! ano-, twice, thrice! 
seize the blinker.! 


Fortune! if thou'll b 

Hale breeks,. a scone, a 

o t ^ 

An' dcal't about as thy 


at gie me still 
' Whisky gill, 
ave at will, 

blind skil'l 



Scotch Dislillcriei 
Scotland and 111 
grateful thanks. 



BURNS. -P0EM3. 



Then on the tither hand present ber ; 
A blackguard Smuggler right behint b 
An' cheek- for- chow, a chuftie Vintner 
Colleaguingjoin, 

Of a' kind coin. 






fi Mui 



Thus 



inginst 



By gallows knaves ? 
Alas ! I'm but a nameless wight, 
But could I like Montgomeries fight, 
There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight, 

God bless your Honours, can'yesee't, 

Some o' you nicely ken the laws, 

An' wi' rhetoric clause on clause 

To mak harangues : 

Then echo thro' St Stephen's wa's 

Auld Scotland's wrangs. 

Dempster, a trne blue Scot I'se warran ; 

An' that glib-gabbet'Hi^hland Baron. ' 

The Laird o' Graham ;f- 
An' ane, a chap that's damn'd auldfarran, 



For G— d sake, Sirs ! then speak her fair. 
An' to the muekle house repair. 



Yon ill-tongued tinkler, Charlie Fox, 

E'en eowe the caddie: 
An' send him to his dicing box 

An' sportin' lady. 

Tell yon gnid bluid o' auld Boconnock':, 
I'll be his debt twa mashlum bannocks. 



Conld he some commutation broach, 
I'll pledge my aith in gui,'. braid Scotc! 
He need na fear their foul reproach 



Auld Scotland has a raucle tongne 
An' if she promise auld or young 



She'll no desert. 
An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forh', 

Then, tho'' a .Minister grow dorty, 

An' kick your place, 

Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' heart? 
Before his face. 

God bless your Honour 



is your Honours a' your days, 
o' kail and brats o' claise, 

That haunt St Jamie's! 
oet sinjs an' prays 

While Rob his name is. 







ysl exert you- mettle, 
and back her kettle ; 


Tog 




Or faith! I'll w 


id my new pleugh-pettlc, 






Ye'll see't or lang, 


She'll teach you 


wi' a reekin' whittle, 






Anither sang. 


Thi 


while she's 


been in cank'rous mood, 


Her 






(Deilnathejne 


Play'dher = that'pliskie:l 
ke to rin red-wud 


An - 


now she's 1 






About her Whisky. 




n' I_d if a 


ice the? pit her tili't, 


Hor 




oat she'll kilt, 


An 


durk an' p-. 


tol at her belt, 
She'li tak the streets, 


An 


rin her whi 


tie to the hilt. 
I' the first she meets ! 



POSTSCRIPT. 



Their lot auld Scotland 



Tak aff their Whisky. 



Or hounded forth dishonour a 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Their bauldest thought's a h 
To stan' oi 

Till skelp— a shot—they're ; 
To save thf 

But bring a Scotsman frae 
Clap ia his cheek a Highlan 
Say, such is royal George's 

Ao' there'; 
He has nae thought but how 

Twa at a b 

Nae cauld, faint-hearted dc 
Death comes, with fearless e 
Wi' bluidy hand a welcome 

His latest draught o' breath: 



An' physically causes seek, 

But teU me Whisky's name in Greek, ' 
I'll tell the reason. 

Scotland, my auld, respected Mither I 
Tho' whyles ye moistify your leaiher, 
Till whare you sit, on craps o' heather, 



THE HOLY FAIR.* 



A robe of seeming truth , 
Hid crafty Observatioi 

The 6 dirk of Uefamatiol 
A mask that like the gor; 



Dye-varying oi 



d"fur .. 



nantle large ai 



lightsomely I glowr'd ; 



The third that gaed a 



Fu' kind 

IV. 

st aff, qnoth I, ' 



To spend an hour in d 
iin ye'll go there, yon r 
We will get famous la 



re clad, frae side to side, 
Io droves that day. 



VII. 



in' graith 



Here farmers gash, i 

Gaed hoddin by their couers : 

The lasses skelpin' barefoot, thrang, 
In silks an' scarlets glitter ; 

Wi' sweet-milk cheese in monie a wliaii" 
Aa'/arls baked wi' butter, 

Fu' crump that day. 



VIII. 



Vhen by the plate we s 

Weel heap J 
l greedy glo< 



1 are busy bletl 
Right k 



Are blinkin' at the entry. 
Ileresitsarawoftittlin'jad. 



Wi' arm reposed on the chair-back 
He sweetly does- compose him ! 

Unkenn'd that da 


neck 


XII. 




g fe silent expgtetiott; ^ 

Wi' tidings o« damnation. 
Should Howie, as in ancient davs, 

Wiang sons o' God pre=e„i him ' 
The vera sight o' >s face, 

To's ain het hame had sent him 
Wi» fright that da 


y- 



But hark * the tent h 
There's peace and 



Of moral p^we 
is English sty], 



POEMS 

See, up he's got the word o* God, 



XVII. 

Wee neist the guard relieves, 

An' orthodoxy raibles, 
Tho' in his heart he weel believes 

And thinks it auld wives 'fables : 
But, faith, the birkie wants a manse 

So cannily he hums them ; 
Altho' his carnal wit and sense, 

Like hafflins-ways o'ercomes him 
At times that day.. 

xvin. 

Now but an' ben, the change-house fi 
Wi' yill-caup commentators: 

Here's crying out for lakes and gills, 
And there the pint stoup clatters ; ^ 

Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture, 
They raise a din, that in the end, 





O' wrath that 




XIX. 


Leeze me on dri 




Than either S 


hool or Colleg 


It kindles wit, i 




It pangs us foi 


o' knowledge. 


Be't whisky gill 




Or ony strong 




It never fails on 


drinking deep, 


To kittle up o 






By night or d 




XX. 


The lads an' las 


es, blythely be 


To mind baith 


saul and body, 



On this ane's dressj 



lis piercing words, like Highland s\ 

lis talk o' Hell, where devils dwell, 
Our very saul does harrowt 

Wi' fright that day 

XXII. 

i vast, nnbottom'd boundless pit, 

Wad melt the hardest whun-stane ! 
Tie half asleep start up wi' fear, 

Vhen presently it does appear, 



DIAMOND CATHNET LIBRARY. 



Asleep that 
XXIII. 



That e'er 

; 

The Clac' 



rshjer. 



XXV. 

Waesucks ! for him that gets 

Sma' need has he to say a gra 



DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK. 

Some books are lies frae end to end, 
And some great lies were never penn'd, 
Ev'n Ministers, they hae been kenn'd, 

In holy rapture, 
A rousing whidi at times, to vend, 



Andn; 



I'm ibis t 



5 moon began 

ut Cumnock h 

To count her horns, wi 

But whether she had l! 
Icou 

I was come round abou 





I took a bicker. 


1 there wi' something did forgather, 
That put me in an eerie swither : 
An' avvfu' scythe, out-owre ae shouth 

Clear-dangling, hau c 
A three-taed leister ou the ither, 

Lay, large au' lang. 


Its statu 
The que 


e seem'd lang Scotch ells twa 
rest shape that e'er I saw, , 


They we 


ame And a then! its shanks 
re as thin, as sharp, an' sma' 


' Guid e 


'en, 'quo' I; 'Friend! hae 


When it 


her folk- are busy sawin' : '* 



It spak right he 


we _ ' 


'1; 


ameisZW,, 


But 




■ '--(": 




, -Guid faith. 


Ye' 






lap my bre 






But 




e, billie; 


Ire 


ye weel t 


k Se" 


here 


s a gully ! ' 


'GutcTman.'qi 


o'he, 


put 


up your whittle, 






1 to try 




ettle ; 


Eut 


if I did, I 




killl 


3 , 


I w 


d namind 


it, no, 




ipHtle 






but 


>wre 


my beard,' 


• Y» 


eel, weel ! 


says 


. 'a 


bargain be 't; 


Con 










Wo 


11 ease our 


shanks 


• gie 


s k yo a ur e news; 


This 




hae I 




ony a gate, 






At m 


my a 


bouse. 



iW&fc «%?Bi i 







•Ay, ay,' q 
'it- e'vii a 
Sm'Ibegat 



BURNS.- 
i* he, an' shook his head, 

An' choke the' breath: 



The Farina of beans and pease, 

He has't in plenty ; 
Aqua-foutis, what you please, 



Till ane Hornbook's' 



n Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan, 



Nae doubt they'll ri 



But Doctor Hornbook, wi 

Has made them baitu no 
Dainn'c 

' 'Twas but yestreen, nae 
I threw a noble throw at i 
Wi'less, I'm sure, I've 1 
But deil 
It just played dirl on the 



:e he tells'U 

l»s and whittles, 



AsAB C. 
>' fossils, earths, and trees; 



* This gentleman, Dr Hornbook, is, pro- 
fessionally, a brother of the Sovereign Order of 
the Ferula? but by intuition and inspiration, 
is at once an Apothecary, Surgeon, and Phy- 

t Euchan's Domestic Medicine. 



' Whare I killed ane a fair strae death, 

This night I'm free to lak my aith, 

That Hornln„k' b skill 
Has clad a score i' their last claith, 



last 

The wife slade c 



Whei 



end her head, 
* bed, 



« A countra Laird had ta'en the batts, 
Or some curmurring in his guts, 
His only son for Hornbook sets, 

An' pays him well ; 
The lad, for twa guid g. turner pets, 

Was laird hioisel'. 



Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, 



But hark ! I'll tell you of 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



rt hour ayont the twal, 



THE BRIGS OF AYR : 



Inscribed t 

The simple Ba 
teaming his ti 



nellow thru 



ing lark, the perching red- breast 
toned plovers, grey, wild -whistling 
lowly shed, 



Shall he, nursed in the Peasa 
To hardy independence brave! 
By early Poverty to hardship 
And train 'd to arms in sti 



?el ! d 






Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes, 
The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes ? 
Or labour hard the panegyric close, 
With all the venal soul of dedicating Prose : 
No! though his artless strains he rude 



And thro- 






ck the gossamor waves wanton 

rays. 

hat season, when a simple bard, 

and poor, simplicity's reward, 

within the ancient brugh of Ayr, 

aspired, or haply press'd wi' care 



The 



down 


by Si 


npson's* w 


icei'd 


the left 


bether i 


35? 


by 


all-direct 
r shall n 


.,* Fa 


• 










, „ 








he 


knew i 






why) 













,vsy Dun 



-clockf had u 
And Wallace towerf had sworn the fact was 
The tide-swoln Firth, with sullen-sounding 
Thro' the still night dash'd hoarse along the 
All else was hush 'd in Nature's closed e' 



The si 

The cl 
tn-pt, 

When, lo! < 

The clanging s 

Two dusky form 



B high o 






l either hand the list'ning 
ugh of whistling wings he 
dart through the midnight 



And hands the rustic stranger up 
With heart-felt throbs his grt 

The godlike bliss, fogive, alone e: 



'Twas when the stacks get o 



Of co 
Theb, 



number'd buds a 



ireath ; 
' flowers' delicious spoils 



with frugal c 

Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the 

The death o' devils, smoor'd wi' brimstone 

reek: 
The thundering guns are heard on every side, 
The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide ; 
Thefeather'd field-mates, bound by Nature's 

mothers, childre 



(What 

Andes 
Nae l 



• the flower i 



t inly bleeds, 



Nae mair the grove wi' airy c 
Except, perhaps, the Robin's 
Proud o' the height o' son 



, l!.at 






rs, Spunkiei 

lev'n the vera deih 
dBrig appear 'd of 

seem'd as he wi' 1 
: teughly doure, he 



>e uprears, 



they brawly ken them,) 



it Lon' 



The Ooth a w 

search 

Spying the t 

It chanced h 

Wi' thieveless 
He, down the i 



e up, 



smooth's 
irlygigums at the bea 
stalking round with t 



time-worn flaws ir 



Is!) 



uide'en:— 



* A noted tavern at the Auld Brig end. 

t The two steeples. 

t The gos-hawk, or falcon. 



BURNS — POEMS. 



Tho' faith that day I doubt ye '11 never see ; 
There'll be, if that day come, I'll wad a 



Auld Vaadal, ye but show your little mense, 

Will your pooTnarr^w foTt-p^thYf a street, 
WTiere twa wheel-barrows tremble when they 

y should east the very sark and 
would grate their feelings wi' the 
ugly Gothic hulk as you. 



Compare 
There's i 

Tho' tlic 



Coueeited gowk ! puff'd up wi' 

This mon:e a 'year I've stood the wi 

An' tho' wi''crazy eUd I'm sair forfair 
I'll be a Brig when ye're a shapeless c 
tsyetyeli 



13 j- t 



a-threi 



When he 

When from the hills where springs the brawl- 
ing Coil, 
Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil, 
Or where the Greenock winds his moorland 

Or haunted Garpalf draws his feeble source, 



The L_d be thankit 
Gaunt, ghastly, ihi ! ; 



* A noted ford, just above the Auld Brig. 

t The hanks of Garpal Water is one of the 
few places in the West of Scotland, where 
those fancy-scaring beings, known by the 
name of Ghaists, still continue pertinacious!) 



£ A small landing place above the large key 



irching, mouldy, gloom-inspirit] 



is not found on eat 
would disgrace 



Were ye but h 
Ye worthy = Pro 



Ye godly Councils v* 
Ye godly Brethren o 
Wha meekly gae jot 



ha hae blest this tt 



re douce folk I've borne a' 
re ye but here, what wnu] 
v would your spirits gro 

see each melancholy alter: 






•er°Rev'rend Men° their country's 

flory, 

braid Scots hold forth a plain brai>. 

■r thrifty Citizens, an' douce,, 
r a pint, or in the Council house : 
urei, corky-headed, graceless Gen- 



i of the e 



-try; 



m parts made by tailors and by b 

ite your weel-hain'd gear on d 

new Brigs and Harbours .' 



In Ayr, wag-wits nae r 
To mouth ' a Citizen,' 
Nae mair the Counc 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

can hae a handle I To rustic Agriculture 



Or gather'd lib'ral views in Bonds and Seis 
If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, 



lull Stupidity stept kindly in 



THE ORDINATION. 



ib they hide the little givt 



Wha 


farther cl 
loony' wars, 


shmacla 


,er migh't been 


What 


if spr 






shed, 






No man 


can tell ; hi 


t all before their sight, 


A fairy 








Adown 


the glitt'ri 




m they featly 








Bright 


to the mo 


n their 


various dresses 



Kilmarnock wabsters, fid~e and claw 
An' pour your creeshie nations ; 



They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so neat, 
The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet. 
While arts 



Andi 






O had M "Lauchlan, 

Been there to hear this heavenly band engage, 

When thro' his dear Strathspeys they bore 

with Highland rage ; 
Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs, 
The lover's raptured joys or bleeding cares ; 
How would his Highland lug been nobler fired, 
And even his matchless hand with finer touch 



No 


guess could tell wh 
t all the soul of Mus 


M n 


•if ■,.':. 


it appear 


While sim 

The Gen 

His hoary 
His manly 
Nest came 
Sweet Fen 
Spri 
Then, crow 

And Summ 
All-cheerin 


pie melody pou 


every 


ving on 


us of the str 
chief advan 
ead with w 
eg with ga 

ale Beauty 
Jg ,' 


ced 
w'ry 


n fron 

inWr 

inall 
hay, 


appears 
ound. ' 

cameRn 


er, with his 
; Plenty, w 


fervid-bean 


ng = horn," 
th noddi 


Th 


en Win 


er's time-bleach 


d IceL 


s did hoa 



By Hospitality with cloudless brow ; 
Next follow'd Courage with his martial 
From where the Feal wild- woody 



ram simple Catrine, their Ion 



well known performer of Scottish musi< 






\.n' skirl up the Bangor: 

is day the kirk kicks up a stonre, 

\ T ae mair the knaves shall wrang her. 



oel«s ] 



i' vigour 



mf leugh at his Dad, 
in'g blade, 



Which made < 
Or Phineasi dro 

Wi' whore-abhorring rigour; 
Or Zipporah,| the scaulding jade. 

Was like a bluidy tiger 

V the inn that day. 

V. 

There, try his mettle on the creed, 

* ' bind him down wi' caution, 

Stipend is a carnal weed, 

taks but for the fashion ; 

ie him o'er the flock to feed, 



* Alluding to a scoffing ballad which w 
nade on the admission of the late reverend ai 
torthy Mr L. to the Laigh Kirk. 






BURNS POEMS. 



Spare them nai 

VI. 

nock, cock thy ta 



Now there— they're packed aff to hell 
An' banish 'd our dominions, 

Henceforth this day 



No gi'en by way o' di 



ick and wale, 

ilka' day. 



VII. 

Babel's streams we'll weep, 

fiddles up to sleep, 
the pegs with tunefu' cheep, 
elbncks wheep, 
fast this day. 
VIIL 






Lang Patronage, w 

Has shored the kir* s uuuum , 
As lately Fenwick, sair forfairn, 
Has nroven to its ruin : 

o I Glencairn, 
brewin' ; 
a godly elect bairn 

An' sound this day. 



He saw m 



XIV. 

Come bring the tither mutchkin in, 

To every New Light* mother's son, 



Now R harangue nae ma: 

But steek your gab for ever ; 

Or try the wicked town of Ayr, 
For there they'll think you elevei 



M and you were just a match, 

We never had sic twa drones ; 
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch, 



i raptured hour 

irlot, 

avenly Power, 



Fast, fast, this day. 

XL 

See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes, 
Ha S rk e how W th Sin ' lhl0 ° l f h the C ' ty ; 

I vow it's unco pretty : 
There Learning, wi' his Greekish face. 

An' Common-sense is gaun, she savs, 
To mak to Jamie Beattie 

Her plaint this day. 

xn. 

But there's Morality himseP, 

Embracing a' opinions ; 
Hear, how he gies the titber yell, 



i'ar and rowte, 

;e will donbt your clai 

S 'he nowte. 

numbered wi' the dea< 
f hUlock, 

may mark your head- 
imous Bullock 1 ' 



* New Light is a cant j 
:0 tland, for those relig 
Dr Taylor of Norwich ha« 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

ADDRESS TO THE DEIL, 
ince ! Chief of maav throned I 



MiU, 



O thou ! wh: 
Aula Hoi " 
Wha in j 



!, Sati 



m:* i 



___ _ it thee, 
, Nick, or Clootie, 



Closed under 



Spairges about the 1 

To scaud poor w 

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a w 
An' let poor damned bodies be ; 



Great is thy pow' 
Far kend and noted 



, an' great thy faoi 
is thy name: 
1' tho' yon lowin' heugh's thy hame, 
Thou travels far ; 
An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame, 

Whyles, ranging like a roarin' lion, 
Tor prey, a' holes and corners tryin' ; 
Whyles on the strong-winged tempest fi 



Wi' eldritch cr 
m twilight did my Graunii 



Aft y, 






u=tlin', 



Wi' heavy gro 

Ae dreary, windy, winter nig] 

The stars shot down w.' sklenth 

Wi" you, mvseP, I gat a fright, 

A\ont the lous 

Ye, like a rash-bush 



Wi' 



The cudge 



Let Warlocks grim, an' wiiher'd hag 
Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags, 
They skim the muirs, and dizzy crags, 



d in kirk-yards 
( 

rbence countra 

r, plunge an' plunge the ki 



howkit dead. 



Y< u. 



As yell's the Bill. 

ice mystic knots mak great abuse, 
ing Cuidman, fond, keen, an' en 
the best wark-lume i' the hou=e, 
By cantrip wit, 



When thowes dissolve the snawy ho 

Then Water-kelpies haunt ihe fbord, 
By your direction. 
An' nighted Travelers are a 



An' aft your moss- 

Decov the wight that 

The bleezin', cursed 

De 

Till in some miry slo 


raversing Spur 
"gh he sunk'is, 


When Masons' my 




Some^ck^rca'Tjou 


s raise you up, 


Or, 

The youngest Brothe 
Aff 


strange to tell 
ye wad whip 
straught to hel 



Then you, ye auld, < 



c-drawing dog '. 



ir thrall, 



ued wicked scawl 



Michael* did you pier 
Down to this time 



now, auld Cloots, I ken ye're think.n 1 
ain Bardie's rantin', drinkin', 
luckless hour will send him linkm', 
To your black pit ; 



* Vide Milton, look >i 



BURNS POEMS. 



But ft 


ith: he'll turn a 

And 


cheT/Jy*!"'' 


But 
Jfe ai 

'm h 


fare ye weel, a 

linsmight-J ? d 
Still 

ae to think upon 
Even 


Id Nickie-ben ! 




THE 


DEATH AND 


DYING WORDS 




POOR MAIL IE, 


THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE. 




AN UNCO MOURNFTj' TALE. 


Th 
WI 


re ae day nibbling on.the tether, 

owre she warsled in the ditch ,- 
re, groaning, dying, she did lie, 
en Hughoc * he came doytin by. 


lie 
Bu 
He 


s r aw U he h r°da lik s e w a e 
ength poor Mail 


and lifted han's, 
he could na mend it ! 


' thou, whase 1 
Appears to mourn m 
My dying words atl 
An' bear them to m 


amentable face 
y waefu' case ! 


As 
0, 

w 

Bu 
An 
So 
To 


Tell him, if e'e 
muckle gear ash 

may bis flock in 


again he keep 
uy a sheep, 

o' hemp or hair ! 

r P at the'ir wi'll : 

an'^cktl^woo'' 


« Tell him, he was a master kin', 

An' now my dying charge I gie him, 
My helpless lambs I trust them wi' him. 


' bid him save 
Frae dogs, an* tods 
But gie them guid c 
Till they be fit to fe 
An' tent them duly 


ow-milk their fill, 


To 

So 

Fo 


An' may they never learn the gates 
ither vile, wanrestfu' pets 1 

stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail, 
may they, like their great forbears, 
r mony a year come thro' the sheers : 




* A nerto 


r herd-callan. 



' My poor toop-lamb, 



wie, silly thing, 



Wi' ony blastit moorland toop 
But aye keep mind to moop an 
Wi' sheep o' credit like thysei 



POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY. 

Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, 
Wi' »aut tears trickling down your nose 
Our bardie's fate is at a close, 



It's no the loss o' warl's gear, 
That could sae bitter draw the tear, 
Or mak our bardie, dowie, wear 

The mourning weed : 
He's lost a friend and neebor dear, 



Thro' a' the town she trotted by h: 
A lang half-mile she conld descry hi: 
Wi' kindly bleat when she did spy h 



Than Mailie dead. 

I wat she was a sheep o' sense, 
An' could behave hersel' wi' mense: 
I'll say't, she never brak a fence, 

Thro' thievish greed. 
Our bardie, lanely, keeps the spence 
Sin' Mailie 's dead. 

Or, if he wanders up the howe, 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Than Mai! 
Wae worth the man wha i 



join the melancholious croon 
O' Robin's reed! 

irt will never get aboon 

His Mailie dead. 



TO J. SYME. 



Dear Sjme, the sleest, paukie 
That e'er attempted stealth or I 
Ye surely hae some warlock-bn 
Owre human 
For ne'er a bosom vet was prie 



Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, 
My barrnie noddle's working prime, 
i\iy fancy yerkit up sublime 

Wi' hasty summon ; 



Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash ; 
Some riijme(vaiii thought '.) tor needlu' ca 



u I 1, = ', 



■ id,i, 



1 rhyme for fun. 

l'he star that rules my luckless lot, 

i' damned my fortune to the groat : 

is bless'd me wi' a random shot 
O' countra wit. 

This while my notiou's taen a sklenl 



Something cries • Hool 
Ye'll shaw your folly. 
lere's ither poets, much your bettei 
lought they had insured their debtors, 



moths deforn 



! ages ; 



Their 



■n pages.* 

Then farewell hopes o' laurel-boughs, 
To garland my poetic brows ! 
Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs 

Are whistling thrang, 
An' teach the lanely heights an' howes 
My rustic sang. 

I'll wander on, with tentless heed 

Till fate shall snap the brittle thread ; 
Then, all unknown. 
'11 lay me with th' inglorious dead, 
' -~ J gonel 



Forgot 
But why o' death begin 



. tale ? 



And large, before enjoyment's gale, 

This life, sae far's I understand, 
Is a' enchanted fairv land. 
Where plea; 









That 


wielded 


right, 


Maks hours like minut 












Dane 


e by fu' light. 




Th 




ic-wand the 


n let us w 


ield; 


F 








orty'ssp 








azy 


weary, joy 












wrinkled 




C 




shos 






e Held, 








Wi' 


creep in' p 


ace. 




When 


nice life's 


day draws nea 


T 


!en 


glo= 
fare* 


veu'-Lantc 


arelese ro- 


amin' ■ 



An' farewell dear deli 



OLife! how pie 

Young Fancy's ray 
Cold pausing Cauti 

Like school-boys, 



e joy of joys! 

: in thy morning, 



Tojoyandpla, 

We wander there, we wander 

We eye the rose upon the brier, 

Unmindful that the thorn is nea 

' Ainang the.lea 

And though the puny wound apj 



BURNS POEMS. 



With steady aim, some Fortune cb 

'lhro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the r 

Then cannie in some cozie place, 

They close the day. 

An* others, like your humble senan 
Poor wights ! nae rules or roads obsel 
To right 01 



l::i 01 



They zig-zag 01 
= They aften groa 



In all her climes, 
;e but this, I ask no more, 

Aye row th o' rhymes. 



An' yill an' whisky gie to caiiMs, 
Until they scour 

« A title, Dempster merits it ; 
Uif weith e to°iomebe fed'er'd 
But gi'e me real, sterling wit, 



I rhyme away. 

O ye douce folk, that live by rule 
Grave, tideless- blooded, calm 'and cool, 
Compared wi' you— O fool { fool ! fool : 

Your hearts are just a standing pool, 



Whilst I— but I shall hand rr 
The/°j a irie Tshalf s" S nae m 



A DREAM. 

Thoughts, words, and deeds, the s 



ncy, made the following Address.] 



Guid 


nornin' to you 


r Majesty! 








nt your blis 




Onev 




..ay ye see, 












Myba 








On 
Is sun 


'an^tcouths 


ght'to see, 








ay dresses 








5 fine this da 
II. 


- V - 


Iseey 








By, 


.onyalordan 


Mady, 




' liuu 


ave the King 






Tha 








The p 








Wi' 




ur.fedau'r 


ady, 


\\ a.i £ 


ar you trow 3 


Tie'er do w 




But 


yeunernngs 


sf dy " 





:r pension, post, nor place, 
mrhuniDle debtor: 
section on your grace, 



e'en right reft an' , 
»' less/wilTgan^'al 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



There, him* at Aginconrt wha shor 

Few better were or braver ; 
And yet wi' funny queer Sir John.f 



Wad 



■ rlyre 



An' now ye've gien auld Britain peace.. 
— . P L aUt fl r ; 

\j Ufe's'a lea 



An' now ye've gien auld Britain peac 
Her broken shins to plaister ; 

Your sair t 
Till she 1 



Or, faith '. I fear, that wi' the geese, 
I shortly boost to pasture 

I' the craft some day 



I'm no mistrusting Willie Pit, 

When taxes he enlarges, 
(An' Will's a true guid fallow's get, 

A name not envy spairges), 
That he intends to pay your debt. 

An' lessen a' your charges ; 
But God sake ! let nae saving fit 

Abridge your bonnie barges 

An' boats this day. 

VIII. 

Adieu, my Liege ! may freedom geek 

An' may ve rax. Corruption's neck, 
An' gie'her for dissection ! 

But since I'm here, I'll no neglect, 
In loyal true affection, 

To pay your Queen, with due respect, 
My fealty an' subjection 



xn. 

For you, right rev'rend Osnabrug, 

Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, 
Altho' a ribbon at yonr lug 

Wad been a dress completer : 
As ye disown yon paughty dog 

That bears the keys of Peter, 
Then, swith ! an' get a wife to hug, 

Or tronth, yell stain the mitre 

Some luckless day. 



A glorious galley* 
Weel rijg'd for 



>rious galley* stem an ' stem, 

'd for Venus' barter ; 

But first hang out, that she'll disc 

Your hymeneal charter, 
Then, heave aboard your grapple \ 
An' large upo' her quarter, 

Come full that c 

XIV. 



lings are unco scant aye 
rman gentles are but sn 



Hail, Majesty ! Most Excellent! 

While nobles strive to please ye 
Will ye accept a compliment 

A simple poet gies ye ! 
Thae bonnie bairntime, Heav'n hai 

Still higher may they heeze ye 
In bliss, till fate seme day is sent. 

For ever to release ye 



For you, young potentate o' Wales, 

I tell yonr Highness fairly, 
Down Pleasure's slream, wi' swelling sa 

I'm tauldye're driving rarely; 
But some day ye may gnaw your na.ls, 

An* curse your folly sairly, 
That e'er ye brack Diana's pales, 

Or rattled dice wi' Charlie, 

By night or day. 



Fu' clean that day. 



THE VISION. 
DTJAN P1KST.§ 



d closed the wint 



An' hunger'd man 
While faithless si 



Alluding to the newspaper aceoui 
certain royal sailor's amour. 
I 5 Duan, a term of Ossian's for the di 
di> is^ons of a digressive pcem. See his 
Loda, vol. ii. of M'Pherson's (ranslatioi 



And whan the day had closed his e'e, 

Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie, 
I gaed to rest. 

There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, 



tumblinj 






lofty 



The lordly dome. 

?re Boon poor'd down his far-fete 

floods ; 
e, well-fed Irwine stately thuds : 
hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods, 
On to the *hore ; 
And many a lesser torrent scuds, 

With seeming roar. 

Low, in a sandy valley spread, 



I might by this, hae led a market, 

My cash account ; 
While here, half-mad, half-led, half-sarkit, 



To every nobler virtue 
And] 

stately tower or r 



ted, mutt 'ring, blockhead 1 coof ! 
ved on high my waukit loof, 
ir by a' yon starry roof, _ 



When click ! the string the sneck did dra 

An ' by my ingle-lowe I saw, 

Now bleezin' bright, 
A tight outlandish Hizzie, braw, 

Come full in sight. 



And stepped ben. 
r, leaf-clad holly boughs, 



My heart did glowing transport feel, 
To see a race * heroic wheel, 
And brandish round the deep-dyed steel 

While back-recoiling seem'd to reel 

Their southron foes. 

His Country's saviour,-!- mark him well ! 
Bold Richardton's ± heroic swell ; 
The chief on Sark 5' who glorious fell. 

In high command; 
And he whom ruthless fates expel 

His native land. 

There, where a sceptred Pictish shade jl 



* The Wallaces. f T 



'A well-known land. 



§ Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who w 

rmond, at the famous battle on the'banks 
Sark, fought, anno 1448. That glorious v 
*— - was principally owing to the judicic 
conuuct and intrepid valour of the galls 
j Laird of Craigie, « ho died of his wounds af 

! R Coilu's, king of the Picts, from whom t 
district of Kyle is said to take its name, 1 

1 of the'lUoutgomeries 'of' Coilsfield, where his 
■-'■■■ -?-•■'--' 
I f Barskimming, the seat of the late Lord 
i Justice-Clerk. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



(Fit haunts for friendship or for love 
In musing mood,) 
An aged judge, I saw him rove, 

Dispensing good. 

Willi deep-struck reverential awe,* 
The learned sire and son I saw, 
To Nature's God and Nature's law 



t I well could Spy 



DUAN SECOND. 
With musing. deep, astonishM 

Of kindred s wee 

en with an elder sister's air 
She did me gree 



thy native muse regard ! 
No longer mourn thy fate is h r 
Thus poorly 1c 



is of this 



' Know, the greai 
Has many a light, a 
Who, all beneath his high command 

Harmoniously, 
As arts or anus they understand, 

Their labours ply. 



' Whe 






yellow waves the heavy grai 



Thethi 

" ome teach to r 

With tillage skill 

nd some instruct the shepherd-trni 

Blythe o'er the hi! 

' Some hint the lover's harmless \ 

ome soothe the Ii 



'gly r. 






For huml 






' Some, bounded to a district-space, 
Explore at large man's infant race, 

Of rustic Bard ; 
And careful note each op'uiug grace, 
A guide and guard. 

' Of these am I— Coila my name ; 
And this district as mine I claim, 
Where once the Campbells, chiefs of rani 

Held ruling pow'r, 
I mark'd thy embryo tuneful flame, 

Thy natal hour. 

' With future hope, I oft would gaz.-. 
Fond on thy little early ways, 
Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase, 



* 'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, 
They, ardent, kindling spirits pour ; ~ 
Or, 'mid the venal senate's roar, 

They, sightless, stand, 
To mend the honest patriot-lore, 

And grace the hand. 

' And when the bard, or hoary sage, 
Charm or instruct the future age, 
They bind the wild poetic rage 

In energy, 
Ur point the inconclusive page 

Full on the eye. 

« Hence Fullarton the brave and young; 

Hence sweet harmoni ,ns 

His "Minstrel lays;" 



* Catrine, the seat -if the late Doctor, a 
iresent Profess, r Stewart, 
i Colonel Fullarton. 



Drove thro' the sky, 

Struck thy young eye. 

' Or when the deep-green mantled earil 
Warm cherish 'd ev'ry How 'ret 's birth, 
nd joy and music pouring forth 
In ev'ry grove, 
saw thee eye the general mirth 

With boundless love. 

■ When ripen 'd 6elds, and azure skies, 
Call'd forth the reaper's rustling noise, 
w thee leave their evening joys, 
And lonely stalk, 
To vent thy bosom's swelling rise 
In pensive walk. 

•n youthful love warm blushing stn 
Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along, 
Those accents, grateful to tby tongue, 
Th' adored Name, 
)W to pour in song. 
To soothe thy flame. 



BURNS POEMS. 



' I saw thy pulse's maddening play, 
Wild send Ihee Pleasure's doiuu= «;i\ 
Misled by Fancy's meteor ray, 

By Passion driven ; 
But yet the light that led astray 

Was light from heav, 

• I taught thy manners-painting srrai 
The loves, the ways of simple swains, 
Till now o'er all my wide domains 

Thy fame extends ; 
And some, the pride of Coila's plains, 



e moving fl< 
. on the heai 



Yet green the juicy hawth. 



Did rustling play ; 
I, like a passing thought, she fled 



ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUIU, 
RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. 



My son, thesi 



■" 



rule, 



Supply 'd wi' store o' water, 

The heapet happer's ebbing still, 

Aud still the clap plays clatter. 

II. 

Hear me, ye venerable core, 
As counsel for poor mortals, 

That frequent pass douce Wisdom's 
For glaikit Folly's portals : 

I, for their thoughtless, careless sak 
Would here propone defences, 

71j ,':, usie tricks, their black mist 

III. 

And shudder at the niffer, 
But cast a moment's fair regard. 

What maks the mighty differ ? 
Discount what scant occasion gave 

That purity ye pride in, 
And (what's aft mair than a' the it\ 

Your belter art o' hiding. 

IV. 

rhink, when your castigated pulse 

What ragings must his veins convuli 

That still eternal gallop : 
Hi' uiud and tide fair i' your tail, 



Or your more dreaded hell to state. 
Damnation of expenses ! 



Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, 
Tied up in godly laces, 
efore ye gie poor frailty names, 






But know not what's resisted. 

TAM SAMSON'S * ELEGY. 

A:. -:lh: -: 

Has auld Kilmarnock seen tie Deil 

Or R % again frown weel 

To preach an* rea< 



Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane, 
An' s'gh, an' sab, an' gTeet her lane, 
An' deed her bairns, man, wife, and wea 

In mourning weed ; 
To death, she's dearly paid the kane, 

Tam Samson's dead .' 

The brethren of the mystic level. 
May hing their head in woefu' bevel, 
While by the ir nose the tears will revet, 

Like ony bead ! 
Death's gien the lodge an unco derel, 

When winter muffles up his cloak. 
And binds the mire like a rock ; 
When to the lochs the curlers flock, 

Wi' gleesome speed ; 
Wha will they station at the cock ? 

Tam Samson's dead! 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY". 
While pointers re 



He was the king o' 
To guard, or draw, c 

Or up the rio-^ Like J- 



w he lags on death's hog 



And eels weel kenn'd for sonple tail, ' 




Heaven rest his saul, whare'er 1 


And sleds for r.-eei, 






Since dark in death's fish-creel we wail 




He had twafauts, or maybe thiee, 


Tam Samson dead 1 




Yet what remead 
Ae social, honest man, want we; 


Rejoice, ye :' — ' g - utricles a' : 




Tam Samson's d 


Ye cootie moorcocks cronsely craw ; 






Ye maniins, cock vour fods fu' braw, 






Withouten dread j 






Your mortal fae is now ana', 




THE EPITAPH. 


Tam Samson's dead ! 




Tam Samson's weel-worn clay her 


That warfu' mora he ever monrn'd, 




Ye canting zealots, spare him ! 


Saw him in shootin' graith adorn 'd, 




If hones: worth in heaven rise, 




Ye '11 mend or ye won Dear him. 


* When this worthy old sportsman we 







last muirfowl season, he supposed it was 


c-e,' 




in Ossian's phrase, ■ the last of his fields . 


' and 


PER CONTRA. 


expressed an ardent wish to die and be ] 


dried 




in the muirs. On this hint, the author 




Go ; Fame, and canter like a filly 


posed his i.-.z~ a-; 5-:: = --. 







the million. Vide the Ordination, Sts 
t Another preacher, an equal favour. 

Me i ,. the (Mimtiaa, Staon IX". 



Frae couples freed ! 
t, och ! he gaed and ne'er return 'd ! 
Tam Samson's deai .' 

to vain auld age his body batters ; 



Till coward death behind him jumpii 
Wi' deadly feid; 

Now he proclaims wi' lout o' trumpet, 
Tam Samson's dead! 

When at his heart he felt the dagger. 

But yet he drew the monal u'.zsii 

Wi' w eel-aim 'd heed; 
' L - d, five ! ' he criet 






= Seed'. 



Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither ; 
Dk sportsman youth bemoan 'd a father ; 
Yon auld grey stane amang the heather, 

Marks out his head, 
Whare Burns has writ, in rhyming blether 

Tam Samson's dead ! 

There low he lies, in lasting rest : 
Perhaps upon his mould'riiig breast 
Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest, 
To hatch an' breed ; 



When August winds the heather wax 
And sportsmen wander by von grave, 
Three volleys let his ruetn'Vy crave 



Tam Samson's dead! 



filly, 

f Eillie,* 



BURNS POEMS. 



For yet unskailh'd by di 



HALLOWEEN. * 

[The following poem will, by many reader: 

of those who°are unacquainted with the mai 



V, Scotland lhepa- 

part of the history of human nature in its 



nenlightenedinourown.] 



^thejowly trai. 
in all the gloss c 



Jpon that night, when fairies ligl 
On Cassilis Downans t dance, 

Or owre the lays, in splendid blaz 
On sprightly coursers prance ; 

Or for Colean the route is la'en, 



all abroad on their baneful midnight erran 
particularly those aerial people, the Fail 

vcrsary. 

-f- Certain little, romantic, rocky, gi 
..■'■•. „ud of the ancient i 

of me Earls of Cassilis. 

i A noted caveru near Colean-house ca 
The Cove of Colean; which, as Cassilis D 
try story for bein 



The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, 

Mair braw than when their line ; 
Their faces blithe, fu' sweetly kytlie 



Gar lasses' hearts gang startin' 

Whyles fast at night. 



Then first and foremost, thro' the kai 

They steek their een, an" graip an' w 
For muckle anes and straught anes 

Pour hai '.'=1 Wll foil aff the drift, 
An' wander'd ihvo' the bow-kail, 



Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane, 

They roar an' cry a' throu'ther; 
The very wee things todlin', rin 

Wi' stocks out-owre their shoulher ; 
An' gif the custoc 's sweet or sour, 

Wi' joctelegs they taste them ; 
Syne coziely, aboon the door, 

\Vi' caunie care, they've placed them 
To lie that nignt. 



To pou their stalks <■ ,.a 



He grippet Nelly hard an' fast ; 



ing each a stock, or plant of kail. They must 

little, straight or crooked, is prophetic of'lhe 

spells— the husband or wife. If any yird or 

tune; and the taste of the custoc, that is, the 

temper and disposition Lastly, the stems, or 

to give tbein their ordinary appellation, the 
jove the head of 



the i 



d the ! 



II They go to the barn-yard, and pull each, 
at three «xeral times, a stalk of oats. If the 
third stalk wants the top-pickle, that is, the 
grain at the top of the stalk, the party in 
question will come to the marriage bed any 

** When the corn is in a doubtful state, by 
';, with a. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



" Are 


there th 


it night d« 


cided : 


Some 


kindle c 




by side 






gither trimly : 


So'ne 








An' 












Fu' hi § 


hthat 






VIII 




Jfans 








Wli 






tell; 


Bui tl 


9 is Joe 


k, an' this 


is me. 



Till white 
Nell's heart 

She whisi 
Rob, stowlii 



it wi' primsie Mallie ; 

iparedto Willie; 
ipont wi' pridefu' fling, 

ielap, an'swoorbyjing. 



ieen that night. 
£L 



Guid L- 
Or whe 



- 'hing held within the p 

is the Deil rums 
pas a bauk-en', 
ls Andrew Bell, 



Wee Jenny to h( 

•' Will ye go \ 

I'll eat the apple 



XIII. 

i' megraun 
at the glasi 



They name the lad and lass to each partici 
nut, as they lay them in the tire, 
accordingly as they burn quietly togeil 
or start from beside one another, the coi 



demand Wha hauds ? i. e, who 
swer will be returned from the 
naming the Christian and sirnam 



i the thread, 



' Ye little skelpie-lin 
How daur ye try si, 
is seek the foul Thief 



was a gilpey then, I'm sure 
'he simmer had been cauld an' v 



XVI. 

« Our stibble rig was Rab M'Grai 
A clever, sturdy fellow ; 



i Take a candle, and go alone to a looking. 
glass ; eat an apple before it, and some tradi- 
tions say, you should comb your hair all the 
time; the face of your conjugal companion, to 
be, will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over 
your shoulder. 

§ Steal out unperceived, and sow a handful 
of bemp-seed ; harrowing it with any thing you 






after me, and harrow thee. ' 



POEMS. 

] She gies the hi 



r 



e for the barn she se 
;e Tam Kipples 
That vera night. 



The auld guid-man rauglit down the pock, 



Come after me, and draw thee, 

4s fast this night. ' 



country diaJect, « call a wechl, and go 
through all il.e atti.uc .-s of luting down corn 
ngaiost the wind. Repeat it three ti 

the barn, in at the windy door, and < 
other, having toth the figure in ques 
the appearance or retinue, marking 



Syne hauldly in she enters; 

An' she cried, L— d preserve her ! 



Out-owre that night. 




To dip her left sark-sleeve in, 

Was bent that night. 


XX. 






He roar'd a horrid murder shout, 




XXV. 


In dreadfu' desperation ! 




Whyles ower a linn the burnie plays, 






As thro' the glen it wimpl't : 


To hear the sad narration s 




v, ...-,-..■... i -■:-.-■ ; 


He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw, 




\\" h vie- in a wielitdimpl't: 


Or crouchie Y'erran Humphie, 




Whyles glitter'd to the nightly ravts, 


Till stop ! she trotted thro' iheia a' ; 




Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle"; 






Whyles cookit underneath the braes. 


Asteer that night ! 




Below the spreading hazel. 

Unseen that night. 


XXI. 






Meg fain wad to the barn hae gane, 




XXVI. 


To win three wechts o' naething ; + 




Amang the brackens, on the brae, 


But for (o meet the deil her lane, 




Between her an' the moon, 


She pat but little faith in : 




The deil, or else an oufler quey, 
Gat up an' gae a croon; 








* This charm must likewise be per 


ormed 




unperceived, and alone. You go to the 




t Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed. 


open both doors, taking them off the hit 


ges, if 


to a bear-stack, and fathom it three times 






round. The last fathom of the Iasy ime, you 
will catch in -your arms the appearance of your 


about to appear, may shut "the doors, £ 




you some mischief. Then take that iust 




conjugal yoke-fellow. 


used in wOrmming the corn, which, 


n our 





apparition having the exact figure of the grand 
mestion, will come and turn the sleev* 
as if to dry the other side of it. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



lugs she plumpit 
Wi' a plunge That night. 






AuM 


uncle J 


3 hn, wbav, 


tdTock' 


sjoys 




Mar's- 








Beca 


- 




dish thrice, 


He 














Inwra 


h tLat 


light. 






XXVIII. 






merry sa 


ngs, an' fr 


endly c 




I wat thi 








An' l 




s, and funn 






Th 




s were chea 






'1,11 




o'ns.f wi' 




t huu 


Se 










Syne 




ocial glass 






Th 


ey parted aff career 


n' 





Fu' blythe that night. 



AULD FARMER'S 



I've seen thee dappl't, sleek 
He should been tight that d: 



lishes, put clean wat 
m, and lead him to (1 



Sin' thou was my guid father's ineere ; 

An' fifty mark; 
rho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear, 
An' thou was stark. 



That day, ye pranced wi' muckle pride, 
When ye bure hame my bonnie bride : 
An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride, 



Kyle Stewart 1 


could 
For 


<" ?-■■ 


d wide 


Tho' 
An' w 


nTlike 


dow but hoyl 


: an' hobble, 


That day ye was a^nk 
Far, 


e<-l»a 


wauble," 

tin'. 


•When thou a 
Hew thou wad 


s at fairs wer 

prance, an' s 

An' tak the 


ng and skeigh, 

e dreigh, 

nore. an'skreigh, 

abeigh, 


Whe 


n thou v 


as corn 


't, an 


I was mellow, 



But every tail thou pay't them hallow, 
Whare'er thou gaed. 

The sma', droop -rumpl't, hunter cattle, 
Wight aiblins waur't thee for a brattle; 
But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle, 

An' gar't them whaizle : 
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle 
O' saugh or hazel. 

Thou was a noble fittie lan*. 

Aft thee an' I, in aught hours' g'aun, 

On guid March weather, 

Hae turned sax rood beside our ban', 
For days thegither. 

Thou never braindg't, an' fetch't, an'fliskit, 
But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit, 

Till spritty knowes wad rair't an' risket, 
An' ulypet owre. 

When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep, 

I gied thy cog a wee bit heap 



BURNS.— POEMS. 



Thou never lap, and sten't, and 

Then stood to 1 

But, just thy step a wee thing h 



My pie 
Four gall 
Forbje sa 


igh 


a now thy 

e, I've se 
Thai t 

tin. Keen 
Theve 




'iv. 


They dre 


" me 


)iind.ii 




Monie 

An' wi' 
An' mon 




efrTwjr 


tV.uil'l 
v,l.h< 


Uol, 



And think na, my auld, trusty s« 
rhat now perhaps thou's less deser 
In* thy auld days may end in starv 



We've worn to crazy years thegither 
We'll toyte about wi- ane anither ; 
Wi" tentie care I'll flit thy tether, 



TO A MOUSE, 



Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, 

what a panic's in thy breastie! 

Wi' bickering brattle! 

1 wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 

Wi'murd'ringpaltle! 



Out thro' thy cell. 



An' craureuch cauld . 
But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 



Still thou art blest, 
The present only touc! 
But Och 1 I backwarc 

An' forward, though ] 



A WINTER NIGHT. 



That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm I 
How shall jour houseless heads, and unfed 

Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend 

you 
From seasons such as these ?—Shakspeare. 



V hr n biting Boreas, fell and doure, 
Sharp shivers through the leafless bow 
When Phcebus gi'es a short-lived glow 



Or whirling drift: 

ie night the storm the steeples rocked, 



Winch makes thee startle 
At me, thy poor earth-l orn companion 
An' fellowmorlal ! 

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve ; 
What then i poor beastie, thou maun live! 

'S a sma' request: 
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, 



st'ning, the doors a. 
-'sut^hee^whabT 



Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing, 
That in the merry month o' spring, 
Delighted me to hear thee sing, 



An' bleak Deceml 



laith snell and keen ! 



Even you on mnrd'ring errands toiled, 
The blood-stained roost, and sheep-cote Epoil 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Now Phebe, in her mic 
Dark muffled, viewed th( 
Still crowding thoughts, 



ilow ye winds, with hea 



See stern Oppressic 



n the peaceful rural vale, 

Truth weeping, tells the mournful ta 

Ilow pampered Luxury, Flatt'ry by he 

With all the servile wretches in the i 
Louks o'er proud property, extended w 
And eyes the simple rustic hind, 

Whose toil upholds the glittering s 
A creature of another kind, 

Placed for her lordly use'thus far, Ih 



When 



Is Love 



self al 



To love-pretending snar 
Shunning soft Pity's risin 



raj n 



, this 1 



d with a mother's fears shrinks at 



p this truth impressed my mini 



EPISTLE TO DAVIE, 



winds frae aff Ben-Lomon 
ir the doors wi* driving sn, 
hing us owre the ingle, 

lmely westlan' jingle. 

frosty winds blaw in the d 
«« tothechimlalug, 
grudge a wee the great folk's gi 
That live sae bein and snug : 






But 1 



ir roomy fireside ; 
inker and canker, 
ee their cursed pric 



It's hardly in a body's pow'r 
To keep at times frae being sour, 
To see how things are shared ; 
How best o' chiels are whyles in want. 
While coofs on countless thousands rait, 



Is ouly for to beg. 



n kilns and barns at e' 



'he honest heart that's free frai 

Intended fraud or guile, 
lowever fortune kick the ba', 



ile thro' the ruggad roof, and chinky 
hill o'er his slumbers piles the 

heap! 
Think on the dungeon's grim confin 
Where guilt and poor misfortune pi 

But shall thy legal rage pursue 
The wretch already crushed low 

■ :iciiou ., s..;ir, ar brothers in disties 


wall, 
drifty 

e' tL-3 


And mind still 
A comfort th 

Nae mair then, 
Nae farther c 

What though like c 

We wander out we 

But either house 


you'll find still, 

we^ll care 'then, 
an we fa' 

IV. 

ommonersofair 

r hall ? 


brother to relieve, how exquisi 


* David Sillar, or 
and author of a rail 


eof theclubat Tarbolton, 
me of poems in the Scut- 



Jihook off the t 



BURNS.— POEMS. 



,d blackbirds whistle clear, 
i honest joy our hearts will bound 
see the coming year. 
On braes when we please, then, 
We'll sit and sowth a tune; 







uckle m 




It's no in 




s no in 1 




To ma 


us truly b 






[fhappin 


ess hae no 






Andce 


ntre in the 






We may 


be wise, or 


rich, or 


grea 


Butne 








Nae 








Co 


uld mak u 


.'■"■' 


anr; 



That makes us right or wrai 
VI. 

Think ye, that sic as yon and I, 
Wha drudge and drive through we 

Think ye, are we less blest than th 
Wha scarcely tent us in their « a- 

As hardly worth their while ? 
Alas I how oft in haughty mood, 

God's creatures they oppress ! 
Or else neglecting a' that's guid, 



VII. 

Then let us cheerfu ' acquiesce ; 

By pining at our state ; 
And, even should misfortunes come, 
I here wha sit, hae met wi' some, 

An's thankfu' for them yet. 
They gie the wit of age to youth ; 



it there, ye'll g, 

vm 



td joys I 



for;, 



And joys the very best. 
There's a' the pleasures o' the 1 

The lover an' the frien'; 
Ye have your Meg, your dearest 

.And I my darling Jean ! 



IX. 



O all ye Powers who ru 
O Thou whose very self art Jove : 
Thou knowest my words sincere 
The life-blood streaming thro' my 
Or my more dear immortal part, 



eroding care and grief 



nil, ye tender feelings dear ! 
smile of love, the friendly tear, 
ie sympathetic glow ; 
; since, this world's thorny wa;,s 



more endearing band, 



It lightens 
The ten< 

To meet w 
MyDav 



The' 



my si..! 



The ready measure rms as fine 
As Phoebus and the famous Nine 

Were glow'rin owre my pen. 
^ IP Mil limp, 

Till ance he's fairly het ; 
And then he'll hitch, and stilt, and jimp, 



His sweaty wizen'd hide. 



THE LAMENT, 



How life and love 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



I joyless view thy trembling horn 

Reflected in the gurgling rill : 

My fondly-fluttering heart be still ! 



No idly feign'd poetic pains, 

My sad, love-lorn lamentings claim ; 
No shepherd's pipe — Arcadian strains j 

No fabled tortures, quaint and tame; 
The plighted faith ; the mutual flame; 

The oft-attested Powers above ; 
The promised Father's tender name; 

These were the pledges of my lovel 



:led in her clasping arms. 



Oh! canshebeai 



Th 


plirr 


ted husb 


and of 




youth 


A (a,! 


I;,,' 










He 












Then 


w ho 


w e s r share S 








Hei 




and n 


ake them 








vl 






Ye w 


nged hours tha 




sp 




En 


aptur 


ed more, 


1 he mo 


ee 


" ; ! ' J 



Awakes me up to toil and woe : 

That I mns r t S uffer , S Ii^rine, si 
Full many a pang, and many a thr 

Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, 



My toil-b( 

Keep watchings with the nightly thief: 
Or if I slumber, fancy, chief. 

Reigns haggard wild, in sore affright ; 
Ev'n day, all bitter, brings relief, 

From such a horror-breathing night. 

rx. 

O ! thon bright queen, who o'er th' exnans 
Now hi- -mdlessswa 

Oft has thy silent-marking glance 
Observed us fondly wand 'ring, stray : 

While love's luxurious pulse beat high, 



Scenes 


never, ne 


ver, to re 


urn! 


Scenes, 


• 


I forget, 




Agam 


I feel, aga 






From eve 


ry joy and 


I'lfwaL 












ortless, I 




A faith 


ess noma 


n's broken vow. 



DESPONDENCY: 



Aburd 


n more 


than I ca 


ibear, 


Isit 




, and si S h 




Olife! 


thou a 


tagallin 




Along 


rough, 






Tow 








Dim ba 




as I cast 


_ 


Wha 






appear 


What 








Too, 


i-.stly I 


nayfew? 





II. 

Happy, ye sons of busy life. 
Who, equal to the bustling strife, 

No other view regard ! 
Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd, 
Yet while the busy means are ply'd, 

They bring their own reward: 
Whilst I, a hope-abandon 'd wight, 

You, bustling, and iustli'ng, 
Forget each grief and pain: 



•vild v. 



all-forgot, 
angling ro 



Sits o'er his newly g; 

Or haply, to his ev'ning thought, 

By unfrequented stream, 
The ways of men are distant brought, 
A faint-collected dream ; 
While praising, and raising 

His thoughts to heaven on hif: 1 
As wand'ring, meand'ring, 
He views the solemn sky. 



Less fit to play the pari 
The lucky moment to im] 
And just to stop, andjusi 

With self-respecting ai 



RLRNS.— POEMS. 



But ah ! (hose pleasures, 1 



COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 

INSCRIBED TO R. AITKEN, ESQ- 



My d 


ne»t p 


m d e e ed, 5 a 


fr i e end h, s 5 es h teeni en a d na 


To£ 


io :'.■■' 


in simple Scottish lays. 


The na 
"Wha 


ive fe 

S Aitk c 


elings s 


cottage wonld have 


h! tho' his worth unknown, far happier 


NovemD 

The 

do* 

The mir 

The 


erchil 


II. 

blaws lc 

ing trai 


ud wi' angry sough 
ng frae the pleugh ; 


The to'; 


-w,,rn 


cotter ft 


.hi. labour goe.. 



My griefs it seems to join, 

The leafless trees my fancy pl( 

Their fate resembles mine 1 



at wee things, t 
heir dad, wi' fl 



l all I want (O, do thou gr al 
^to eno eq t J hon < do m t i d e en- ;) 



Belyve the elder bairn 
At service out arnan 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Comes hame, perhaps, to show a 

Or deposit her sair-won penny fe 
To help her parents dear, if th™ ! " 



be. 


One cordial in this melancholy vale, 




'Tis when a youthful loving modest pair, 


V. 


In other's arms breathe out the tender 


Wi ' jov nnfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, 




An' ' each for other's weelfare kindly 


Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the 


spiers: 


ev'ning gale.' 


The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed 




Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful 


X. 

Is there, in human form, that bears a 
heart— 


Anticipation forward points the view; 
The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears, 
Gars auld claes look araaist as weel's the 


A wretch '. a villain ! lost to love and 
trnth! 
That can,wi.h studied, sly, ensnaring art, 



ir lahours wi' an 

•e to fear the Lord al 
July, m 






nighl 

Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 

Implore his counsel and assisting might : 

They never sought in vain that sought the Lord 



VII, 



But, hark ! a ra, 
^Tells how' a neeb 



Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ; 
A strappin youth ; he taks the mother's 

The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and 

kye. 
The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' 

But Mate and laithfu', scarce can weel 
behave; 

What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' 

Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like 
the lave. 



■t-felt raptures 1 bliss 



I've paced much this weary mortal round, 

And sage experience bids me this declare— 
' If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure 



esome parritch, chief o' Scotia's 



ings forth in cot 
e lad, her weel-h: 



The sire tu 
The big 


"ha' 


BibTe,' P ance ar hU 


fad". 


His bonnet rev'renlly is laid aside, 
His lyart haffets wearing thin an 

glide, 
He wales a portion with judiciou 
nd ' Let us worship God !' he a 


in 2 
js, w 


They chan 


t the 


XIII. 

r artless notes ir 


sim 


TlfeyTun 


a the 


r hearts, by far th 


B ..Ob 


Perhaps D 


nde, 


s wild warbling 


m easu 


Or pl'ai 


live 


Martyrs, worthy 


of 


Or noble' 


Elgir 


beets the hea 


'n-w 


The .wee 
Compared 


est r 
wish 


r of Scotia's bo y lays ; 
these, Italian trills 



BURNS.- 
The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures 
le unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 
XIV. 



Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage 

■. . •- . ■-.--•■: 

Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 
Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avengini 

Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; 

Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; 

Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 



shed; 
How He, who bore in heaven the 

Had not on earth whereon to lay his 

How his first followers and servants s 

The precepts sage they wrote to n 

How he, "v 



by Heaven's commaud, 

XVI. 

Then kneeling down to Heaven's eternal 
Hang, 
The saint, the father, and the husband 

Hope « springs exulting on triumphant 

That thus they all shall meet in future 
days: 
There ever bask in uncreated rays, 

No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, 
Together hymning their Creator's praise, 



In all the pomp of method, and of art, 

Devotion's ev'ry grace," except the heart ! 

The Pow'r incensed the pageant will desert, 

The pompons strain, the sacerdotal stole ; 

But haply, in some cottage far apart, 

May hear, well-pleased, the language oi 

the soul : 

And in his book of life the inmates poor enrol. 

XVIII. 



ten homeward a 



:* -AT tl 



The youngling cottagers retire to rest, 
The parent pair their secret homage pay. 

And proffer up to Heav'n the warm re 
quest, 
That He who stills the raven's clam'rou 

And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, 



Would in the way his wisdom sees tb 

For them and for their little ones pi 

But chiefly in their hearts with grace 



nd lords are but the breath of 
onest man's the noblest work of 
i, in fair virtue's heavenly road, 
a lordling's pomp ! a cumb'rous 



Be blest with health, and peace, and's 
And, O: may Heaven their simple 



OThou! who pour'd the patriotic tide, 
Tbat stream 'd thro' Wallace's undaunl 
heart: 

Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 
Or nobly die, the second glorious parv 

(The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, 
His friend, inspirer, guardian, and 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. 



Along the banks of Ayr, 
spy'd a man, whose aged step 
Seem'd weary, worn witKtarc 
lis face was furrow 'd o'er with 
And hoary was his hair. 



.n ! while in thy early years, 
w prodigal of time! 



Look not alone c 


n youthful prim 


Or manhood's 
Man then is use 


ruftoh^kinV, 


Supported is 


.is right : 

he edge of life, 




With cares a 


d sorrows worn 



Many and sharp the r 



) CABINET LIBRARY. 

This partial view of human-kind 



To comfort those that mouru ! 

xr. 

O Death ! the poor man's dearest frie 



A PRAYER 

IN THB PROSPECT OF DEATH. 

I. 

thou unknown Almighty Cause 

Of all my hope and fear! 
In whose dread presence, ere an hour, 

Perhaps I must appear! 

If I have wander'd in those paths 

Of life I ought to shun: 
As something loudly, in my breast, 

Remonstrates I have done ; 

lit. 

Thou know'st that Tnou hast formed me 



Where human weakness has come short, 

Or frailty slept aside, 
Do thou All Good ! for such thou art, 



VIII. 

See yonder poor, o'eriaboured wight, 



Where with intention I have err'd, 

No other plea I have, 
But Thou art good ; and goodness still 

Delighleth to forgive. 



The poor petition spurn, 

Unmindful tho' a weeping 

And helpless offspring n 

IX. 

If I'm designed yon lordli: 
By Nature's law design 

Why was an independent 
E'er planted in my i 
' n I subj* 



nd? 



His 
Or why h. 



uelty o: 



STANZAS 

ON THB SAME OCCASION. 

Why am I loath to leave this earthly 



! I S 



foun 



t full < 



piea: 



Some drops of joy with draughts of ill b 



BURNS. - 

' Forgive ray foul of- j 



hould my Author he: 

a Imight desert fair v 
n folly's path might g< 



Then how should I 



THE FIRST PSALM. 

The man, in life wherever placed, 
I Hath happiness in store, 
| Who walks not in the wicked's way, 
Nor learns their guilty lore ! 

Nor from the seat of scornful pride 



Dvernor of all below, 
nake the tempest cea 



That man shall flourish like the Ire, 
Which by the streamlets grow ; 

The fruitful top is spread on high, 
Aud firm the root below. 



11 unfit Ifeelmypow'rsto 
rule their torrent in th' alio 
e with thy help, Omnipoter 



Thou dread Pow'r who : 
I know thou wilt me hea 

Wnen from this scene of pi 
I make my prayer sinceri 



All wretched and di 

Yet sure those ills tha 

Obey thy high behe 



And show what good m 



She, who her lovely offspring eyes 
With tender hopes and fears, 

bless her with a mother's joys, 
But spare a mother's tears! 

Their hope, their stay, their darling you 

In manhood's dawning blush ; 
Bless him, thou God of love and truth, 



THE NINETIETH PSALM. 



hose strong right hand has ever I 
rheir stay and dwelling place ! 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Those mighty periods of years, 
Appear no more before thy sight, 



Tbougav'i 

Again thou 
Return 3 

Thou layesl 



n ye into 



with all tl 



As with a flood thou tak'st them off 
With overwhelming sweep. 

They flourish like the morning flow'r, 
In beauty's pride array 'd; 

All wither'd and decay'd. 

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY, 



ON TURNING ONE DOWN WIT! 
PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786 


THB 


Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, 
The ministers of grief and pain, 

A sullen welcome, all! 
With stern-resolv'd, despairing eje, 


Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, 












For I maun crush amang the stoure 






Thy slender stem ; 




Then low '.ing and pouring, 


To spare thee now is past my pow'r. 






Thou bonuie gem. 




ThoMhick'ning and black'nin'g. 
Round my devoted head. 


Alas ! it's no thy neebour sweet, 






The bonny Lark, companion meet ! 




IT. 


Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet 




And ihou grim power, by life abhorr'd 






While life a pleasure can afford, 


When upward-springing, blithe, to g 


r'eet 


Oh! hear a wretch's prayer : 


The purpling east. 




No more I shrink appall'd, afraid : 
I court, I beg thy fnendly aid, 


Cauld blew the bitter-biting north, 




To close this scene of care • 


Upon thy early, humble birth ; 




When shall my soul, in silent peace, 


Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 




Resign life's joyless day ; 






Mv weary heart its throbbings cease, 


Scarce reared above the parent earth 




Cold mould'ring in the clay ; 


Thy tender form. 




No fear more, no tear more, 
To stain my lifeless face ; 




ield. 






n shield, 


Within thy cold embrace ! 


But thou beneath the random bield 
O' clod or stane, 
Adorns the histie stibble field, 











Unseen, alane. 




TO MISS L , 


There, in thy scanty mantle clad, 






Thy snawy bosom sun-ward spread, 






Thou lifts thy unassuming head 




year', GIKT, JAN. 1, 1787. 


In humble guise ; 






But now the share uptears thy bed, 




Again the silent wheels of time. 


And low thou lies! 




An^ h ylu, a tn^ a lcTc n e d i^rnai d d r en e p n rime 


Such is the fate of artless Maid, 






Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! 






By love's simplicity betray'd, 




No gifts have I from Indian coasta 






The infant year to hail ; 






I send you more than India boasts 


Low i' the dust. 




In Edwin's simple tale. 



Such is the fate of simple Bard, 
On life's rough ocean luckless Starr 
Unskilful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore, 
Till billows rage, and gales blow hs 



Who long with wb 
Till wrench'd of e^ 



'i'd, sink ! 



Till crush'd beneatl 



Shall be thy doom ! 



All hail ! inexorable lord ! 



BURNS POEMS. 



}ur sex with guile and faithless love 
An Edwin still to you ! 

EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 



I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend, 

A something to have sent you, 
Tho' it should serve nae other end 







Perhaps turu out a sermon. 




II. 




Ye'U try the warld soon, my lad 








Ye'U find mankind an unco squa 










^h< 


E'en when your end's attained 






ugh! 


Where ev'ry nerve is strained. 





Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strifi 
Their fate we should na censure, 

For still the important end of life 
They equally may answer. 

A man may hae an honest heart, 
Tho' poortith hourly stare him; 

A man may tak a neebor's part, 

V. 

Aye free affhan' your story tell, 

When wi' a bosom crony ; 
But still keep something to voursel 

1, .-.,■■, .= . 



Of beiDg independent. 

VIII. 

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip 
To haud the wretch in order; 

But where ye feel your honour grip, 
Let that aye be your border ; 

Debar a' side nret'ences : 

And l- 



The great Creator to revere, 

Must sure become the creature ; 

Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, 
Be complaisance extended ; 

An Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange 
For Deity offended ! 



Or, ifshegie 
But whe 



Adieu, dear amiable youth ! 

Erect your brow undaunting! 
In ploughman phrase, ' Gcd send you speed,* 
Still daily to grow wiser; 

Than ever did th' adviser J 



ON A SCOTCH BARD 



Our billie's gi'en ui 



The bonnie las: 



For weel I wat they'll sairly miss hi 
That's owre the sei 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



O Fortune, they hae room to grumble! 
Ihukt thou ta'en aft' some drowsy bumiutl, 
Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, 

•Twad been nae plea ; 
But he was gleg as ony wumble, 



Auld, cantie Ryle may w 
An' stain them wi' the saul 
'Twill mak' her poor auld ] 



That's owre the se 



bellyfu'o'drummock, 
jd independent stomach 
Could ill agree ; 



Ye'll find him aye a dainty chid, 

And fu'o' glee: 

He wadna wrang'd the vera deil, 

Fareweel, my rhyme-composing- 
Your native soil was right ill-willi, 
But may ye flourish like a lily, 

I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillie, 
Tho owre the sea 



TO A HAGGIS. 

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, 
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race, 
Aboor them a' ye tak your place, 

Painch, tripe, or thaiim 
Weel are ye wordy of a grace 



The groaning trencher there ye fill, 



Like amber bead. 

His knife see rustic labour dight, 
An' cut you up wi' ready slight, 
Trenching your gushing entrails brigl 
Like onie ditch ; 

And I tun, O what a glorious si.rhl, 
Warm-rcekin, ,i c |. 



Then horn for horn they slret, 
Deil tak the hindmost, on they 
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes 



Looks down wi' si 



As feckless as a will 

His spindle-shank a 

Hi 

Thro' bloody flood 01 



He'll make it whissle ; 
An' leg?, an' arms, an* heads will sued, 
Like taps o' ihrissle. 



ut, if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r, 



A DEDICATION. 



TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. 



An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid, 



Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lie, 

For fear your modesty be hurt. 

This may do— maun do, Sir, wi' them 
Maun please the great folk for a wamefu' 
For me ! sae laigh I needna bow, 
For, Lord be thankit, I can plough ; 
And when I dinna yoke a oaig, 
Then, Lord be thankit, I can beg ; 
Sae I shall say, and that's nae flatt'rin', 
It's just sic poet an' sic patron. 



The Patron, (Sir, ye man forgie in 

i'ii ti'rj hand i! will allowed be, 
He's just — nae better than he should I 



BURNS — POEMS. 



What's no his aiu he w 



Ought he can lend he'll no refuse't, 
And rascals wbyles that do him wrang, 



Morality, thou deadly bane, 
Thy tens u* thousands thou hast slain • 
Vain is bis hope, whose stay and trust 



Learn three mile pray'rs, an' half-mile 
looves, an' lang, wry face ; 



.ardon, Sir, for this 



But that's a word I need na say : 
For prayin' I hae little skill o't; 
I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't ; 



For that san 


ege 


i'rous s 


May K 




3 far ho 


Lang beet hi 


~i 


neneal i 


Are frae her 


...pt 


ll'fobo 


Five bonnie 1 






And seven br 


]'v. 




To serve the 




gandc 


By word, or 






May health a 












Till his wee 




e John' 


When ebbin = 


Mt'e 




The last, sad 


, mo 


urnful r 



I will not mind a lang conclusion, 

iut whilst your wishes and endeavours 
ire bless'd with Fortune's smiles and favours, 
am, dear Sir, with zeal most fervent, 
four much indebted humble servant. 

But if (which Pow'rs above prevent ! ; 



By 




il 




ind black 




While hope 






joys, and 


plea 




r numb 


l 


'"n 


a dog as 




For 






i 1, 


mblyser 




1 


by a po 




TiOD 


's hopes 
's power 


in H 
isgi 


ir. 


n the v 


- 


•A'' 




e, 


Th 








fortune's 


strii 


I, thro' the 




ide 


- ■ - 




Sho 


uld recc 


g° 


ze 




r de 



hen, Sir, your hand — my friend and brother! 

TO A LOUSE, 

« SEEING ONE ON A LADTj's BONNET AT 

s. ! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin' ferlie ? 



Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle ; 
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and spral(l< 
Wi" ither kindred, jumpin' cattle, 

In shoals and nations : 
Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle 

Your thick plantations. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Now baud you ikere, ye're out o' si 
Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight : 
Na, faith ye jet ! ye'll no be right 



My sooth I right bauld ye set your ncs 
As plump and grey as ouie grozet ; 

' Or fell, redsme'ddum, 
I'd gi'e you sic a hearty dose o't, 

Wad dress your droduu 

I wad na been surprised to spy 
You on an auld wife's flannen toy ; 
Or aiblins some tit duddie boy, 

Oa'swyliecoat; 
But Miss's fine Lunardiel fie, 

How dare ye doV 

O Jenny, dinna toss your head, 
An' set your beauties a' abread ! 
Ye little ken what cursed speed 

Theblastie's maki,,', 
Thae winks and finger ends, I dread, 



ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH. 



Where once, beneath a monarch's feet. 
Sat legislation's sovereign powers ! 

From marking wildly scatter'd flowers, 
As ou the banks of Ayr I stray'd, 

And siuging, lone, the lingering hour=, 
I shelter in thy honour'd shade. 

II. 

: ;:■?■■[■-,-. ■ ,i 1; ;..;,■,;: ..'. 

As busy trade his labours plies ; 

Bids elegance and splendour rise ; 



Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, 

VViih open arms the stranger hail ; 
"'-'- Tiews enlarged, their liberal mind, 



Ahoy. 

Or modest 






it claim 



IV. 

Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn 
Gay as the gilded summer sky, 

Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, 
Dear as the raptured thrill of j'j '. 



is work indeed divine 1 



Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar : 
Like some bold veteran grey in arms, 
And mark'd with many a seamy seui : 

Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock : 
Have oft withstood assailing war, 
And oft repell'd tb' invader's shock. 



With 


awe-struck though 


t andpityi 


ag te 


I VI 






ely dome, 




Wher 




s kings of 






Famed heroe 


s, had their royal he 




Alas! 










The 




ame low 


in the dus 




Their 


hapless 


ace wild 


wand 'ring 


roam 



Tho' rigid law ci 



Wild beats my heart to trace your steps, 
Whose ancestors in days of yore, 

Old Scotia's bloody lion bore : 
E'en I who sing in rustic lore, 

Haply my sires have left their shed, 
And faced grim danger's loudest roar, 

Bold following where your fathers led. 



eath a monarch's fee!, 



As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, 
tnd singing, lone, the lingering hours, 
I shelter'd in thy honour'd shade. 



EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK, 

D, APRIL l=t, 1": 



I This freedom in an unknow 
I pray «, 

iOn fasten-een we had a l 
And there was inuckle fun 
Ye need 
At length we had a hearty 



There was ae sang amang the rest, 
Aboon them a' it pleased me best, 
That some kind husband had address 'd 



They tauld n 



Dan this be Pope, or S 
Or Beattie's wark 

! 'twas an odd kind cb 
About Muirkirk. 



BURN'S. 
bed sae weel, 



An' either d 


ouce or merry tale, 


Or rhymes 






Or witty catches, 








He had few matche 



1 to the erambo-j ingle fell, 

Tho'rudean'rouil). 
Yet crooning to a body's seP 

Does weel eneugh. 

I am nae poet, in a sense, 
But just a rhymer, like, by chance, 
An' hae to learning nae pretence, 

Yet, what the malM : 
Whene'er my muse does on me glance, 
I jingle at her. 



Wsay 



c folk may cock tr 
los? can you e'er ] 
n hardly verse fraf 



They gang it stirks 
An' syne they think 



I winna blaw about mysel ; 

As ill I like my faults to tell ; 

iiut friends, and folk that wisl 

They sometit 



There's ae wee faut they whyles lay to 
I like the lasses— Quid forgie me ! 
Fur monie a plack they wheedle frae me 

May be some ither thing they gie me 
They weel can spare. 



light's discharge to c; 
If we forgather, 



The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter 
An' kirsen him wi' reekin' water; 
Syne we'll sit down an' tak our whitter, 

To cheer our heart ; 
An, faith, we'se be acquainted better 
Before we part. 



: ye whom social plea 
;e hearts the tide of ki 



Come to my bowl, c 



My friends, my brothers ! ' 



But, to conclude my lang epistle. 



TO THE SAME. 



While new ca'd kye rout at the st 

This hour on e'enin's ed|e 1 take, 

To own I'm deb 

To honest-hearted auld Lapraik, 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Quo' she, • Yeken je'vebe. 

This montl 

That trouth my head is grov 



Sae I got paper in a blink. 
An' down gaed stumpie in the ink : 
Quoth I, ' Before I sleep a wink, 



My worthy friend, r 



Bui, by the L -d, tho' I should beg, 
Wi' lyart pow, 

I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg, 
As lang's I dow ! 



But yet, despite the 

Do ye envy the cit 
Behint a kist to lie a 
Or purse-proud, big 

Id some bit brugh tc 



0* is't the paughty feudal 



"H'ha thinks himself nae sheep-shank bane, 
But lordly stalks. 

While caps an* bonnets aff are taen, 
As by he walks : 

■ O Thou wha gies us each guid gift ! 
Gie me o' wit and sense a lift, 
Then turn me if Thou please adrift 

Thro' Scotland wide ; 
Wi' cits nor lairds I would not shift. 

Were this the charter of our state, 



' The social, friendly, li.,ne-i "man, 
'lis ha fulfils great A'ature's plan, 



O mandate glorious and divine ! 
The followers o' the ragged Nine, 
Poor glorious devils ! jet may shine 

In glorious light, 
While sordid sons of .Mammon's line 



le forest's fright ; 
ay shun the light. 



In some mild spher 
in friendship's ties, 
Each passing year. 



I gat vour lette 
Wi' g'ralefu' in 
Tho' I maun s; 



Your flatterin 1 

e believe ye kindly me: 
ailh to think ye hinted 
ire sidelins sklenled 

Icphraisin' terms ye 'v 



BURNS — P0E.M3. 



(O Fergusson ! thy glorious par la 
111 suited law's dry musty arts, 
M? curse upon jour whunstane hearts 
Ye E'nbrugh Genln 
The tithe o' what ye waste at cartes. 



I kittle up ray n 

__ Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fain, 



Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fair 
She's go" - 
Chiels w 

Till echoes all resound at 



Nae poet thought her worth his while, 



Beside New-Holland, 
Or whare wild-meerinjr oceans boil 
Besouth Magellan. 



"Kiss* 

Th' IUissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, 
Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line I 
But, Willie, set vour fit to mine, 

An' cock your crest, 

We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells. 
Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells, 
Her banks an' braes her dens an dells, 

Where glorious Wallace 
Aft bure the gree, as story tells, 

Frae southern billies. 

At Wallace 5 name what Scottish blood 
Oft have our fearless f 



y Wallac 
Still pressing onward, red w 
Or gloriou: 



An' jinking hare 
While thro' the 



chant among the buds, 

TneirTveTenjoy', ' 
bra-, die cushat croods 
With wailfu' cry ! 

eak has charms to me 



Or frost on bills of Ochillre. 



ary grey ; 



™ e 4e n r7hrsummer e kindly a warms mS ' 
Wi' life an' light, 

Or winter howls in gusty storms, 

The lang, dark night I 






The warly race may d, 
Hog shoutber, jundie, SI 



Black fiend infernal ! 
While highlandmen hate tolls and tax. 



POSTSCRIPT. 

My memory's no worth a preen 
By thi 






,ght,. 



.Mai: 



: aft hae 



fight, 
were but callans 



In days when man 
At grammar, lojic, 
They took nae pains 

But spak their th 

In thae auld times, they thought the moon, 

Wore by degrees, till her last roon, 

Gaed past their viewing. 



This past for certain, undisputed ; 

Till chiels gat up an^ wadVnfute it,' ' 

An' muckle din there was about it, 

Baith loud and lam;. 

Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the buik, 
Wad threap auld folk the thin? misteuk i 
For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

send you, Kol 



Should think they b< 



Aii' sotne to learn them for 
Were har 

This game was play'd in 
An' auld-light caddies bun 
That faith the youngsters t< 

Till lairds forbade, by stric 



An' some, their 


Ye'll find ane plac' 
new-light fair avow, 
Just quite barefac'd. 


Nae doubt the 
Their zealous he 
Mysel', I've eve 

To hear the moo 


auld-light flocks are 

tt Wi"girn?u ?r s e p e it'e n , 
a sae sadly lie 'don 
By word an' write. 


But shortly th 
Some auld-light 


y will cowe the loun 

ttings they ca' ballooi 
To tak' a flight, 



Guid observation they will gi 'e fbem : 
An' when the auld moon's ^aun to lr-a'p tlir-n 
The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' then 



EFISTLE TO J. RANKINE. 

ENCLOSING SOME POEMS. 

idy-witted Rankine, 



O Rough, 

The wale o' cocks for 

There's monie godly folks an 

Yours dreai 



And then their failings, flaws, an w 

Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it ; 
That holy robe, O dinna tear it I 



t for their 
But your ct 



Think, wicked sinner, whaye'r 

0' saunts ; tak that, ye lea^e tliet 
To ken them by, 
Frae ony unregenerale heathen 



aff their back, 
whaye're staithing, 
idling 






Yon 



sent you here some rhyming « 
»ng,■^ye'Use W, 



Tho' faith, sua' he 
My muse dow scarce!; 
I've play'd mysel a bl 

I'd better gaen and so 



'Twr 



s ae night la 
1 ro J in S "?' 
.-ought a paitr 

is the twilight w 









Thought uane wad ken 
The poor wee thing was little hurt ; 
e'er thinkin' they wad fash me for't ; 



Some auld us'd hands had ta'e 
"hat sic a hen had got a shot ; 
was suspected for the plot ; 

I scorn'd to lie 

io gat the whissle o' my groat, 

An' pay't the f< 

in' by my pouth. 






in'byh 






g be had promised the Author. 



BURNS.— POEMS. 



[ should herd the buckskin kye 



:arce thro the feathers ; 

George to claim, 

i' thole their blethers ! 



JOHN BARLEYCORN,* 



They took a plough and plough'd him do 

And they hae sworn a solemn oalb 
John Barleycorn was dead. 

But the cheerfu' spring came kindly on, 

And show'rs began to fall; 
Juhn Barleycorn got up again, 



'Twill make your courage rise 

XIV. 

'Twill make a man forget his w< 
'Twill heighten all his joy: 






A FRAGMENT. 

Tune—" GillicrankiL-. 



They'v 


ta'en a we 




ong and sharp, 




ut him by t 






Then ti 


ed him fast 






Like 


a rogue for 




e- 




Till. 




They laid him ddw 




And 


udgel'd him full 




They hung him up 


; f..r 




Aud 


urn'd him r 


•era 


d o'er. 


* This 


is partly co 


tnpos 


d on the plan of 


old song k 


now" by Ih 




name. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin 
Guid Christian blood to draw, man ; 

But at New-York, wi* knife and fork, 
Sir-loin he hacked sma', man. 



is way, ae misty day, 



In Saratoga shaw, man. 


The moon was s 


h.ning clearly; 


Corowallis fought as lang's he dought, 


I set her down, w 


'right good will, 


An' did the buckskins claw, mau ; 












He hung it to the wa', man. 










nd owre again 


V. 


Ainang the rigs 




Then Montague, an' Guildford too, 










III. 


And SackviUe Joure, wha stood the stoure, 


I lock'd her in my 






Her heart was b 




Poor Paddy Burke, like onie Turk, 


My blessings on tb 


at happy place. 


Nae mercy had at a', man ; 


Amang the rigs 


o' barley ! 


An' Charlie Fox threw by the box, 




nd stars so bright, 




ThatshonTt'hat 1 


hour so clearly! 




She aye shall bles 


that happy night, 


VI. 

Than n^L-;^!,™ Innl, nn fV.o o-omo • 


Amang the rigs 


o' barley. 



Then Rockingham took up the game ; 

Till death did on him ca\ man ; 
When Shelburne meek held up his che 



VIL 

Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes, 

He swept the stakes awa', man, 
Till the diamond's ace of Indian race, 

The Saxon lads, wi' loud placad's, 
On Chatham's boy did ca\ man; 

And Scotland drew her pipe, an' blew, 
"Up, Willie, waur them a', man!" 

VIII. 

Behind the throne then Grenville's gone, 

While slee Dundas arous'd the class 
Be-north the Roman wa', man : 

An' Chatham's wrailh, in heavenly graith, 
(Inspired bardies saw, man) 

Wi' kindling e-,es, c-rj'J, " Willie, rise ! 
Would I ha'e fear'd them a', man ?" 



But word an' blow, North, Fox, and ( 

Gowff'd Willie like a ba\ man, 
Till Suihrons raise, and coost their claii 



To see me thro' the t 



:n blyfhe wi' comrades dear ; 
mjoyfu' gath Yin gear: 



SONG, 
COMPOSED IN ACl 



1 slaught'ring guns, 



And the moon shines bright, whea I rove at 
To muse upon my charmer. 

II. 

The partridge loves the fruitful fells : 

The wo P odcock°haunts the lonely dells ; 

The soaring hern the fountains : 
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves 

The path of man to shun it; 
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush. 

The spreading thorn the linnet. 



KNS.—POEMS. 

VII. 

tuld guidma.s 






IV. 

But Peggy dear, theev'ning's dear. 

Thick flies the skimming swallow i 
The sky is blue, (he fields in view. 

All fading-green and yellow : 
Come let us stray our gladsome waj , 

The rustlin corn, the fruited thorn, 
And ev 'ry happy creature. 

V. 

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, 
Till the silent mor" -«" - — -' 



Not autumn to the farmer, 
My fair, my lovely charmer '. 



SONG. 

Tune—" My Nannie, O. " 

L 

Behind yon hills where Stinchar flows, 
Mang moors an' mosses many, O, 

The wintry sun the day has closed, 
And I'll awa to Nannie, O. 



My Nannie 


'scharn 


ing, sw 


eet, an' 


Nae artf 








May ill bef 


i' the fl 


my in N* 


ongue 


That wad beguile 


inie, 0. 






IV. 




Her face is 


fair, he 








ss as sh 




e, 0: 










Nae pur 


r is that 


i Nannie 
V. 


,0. 




ad is ray 


degree. 




An' few 


there be 


that ken 




But what 


are I ho 


w few th 




I'm welcome aye 


to Nanr 


ie, O. 






VI. 




My riches 








An' Im 






e, 0; 


But wart's 








My thou 


: ji t , •„-, 


a' my IS 


annie, ( 



GGEEN GROW THE BASHES. 



Green grow the rashes, O ! 

Greeu grow the rashes, O ! 
The sweetest hours that e'er I speii 

Are spent amang the lasses, O '. 



There's nought but care on ev'rj ha 
In ev'ry hour that passes, O ; 

Ul.ai sijnilies the life o' man, 
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O. 



ches still may fly them, <J ; 
hearts can ne'er enjoy them, 



d then she made't 



SONG. 
Tune— " Jockie's Grey Breckj . " 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



The merry ploughboy cheers his 

Wi'joy the tentie seedsman st; 

But life to me's a weary dream, 



The wanton coot the wati 



The shepherd steeks his faulding si 



Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, 

And raging bend the naked tree ; 
Thv gloom will soothe my cheerless soul, 



And maun I still on Menie doat, 


■ ■> 


From thee, Eliza, I must go, 


For it's jet, jet black, and it's li 


e a hawk, 


And from my native shore : 


An' it wicna let a body be. f 




The cruel fates between us throw 

Between my^^nd mef 
They never, never can divide 
My heart and soul from thee. 


* This chorus is'part of a song c 


omposed by 


a gentleman in Edinburgh, a panic 


ular friend 


f Menie is a common abbreviatio 


n of Mari- 


II. 








^ We cannot presume to alter 




Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, 




ially those 


The maid that I adore ! 




et it is to be 


A boding voice is in mine ear, 






We part to meet no more ! 






But the last throb that leaves mv he- 


train of sentiment which they escit 


errupts the 


While death stands victor by, 




That throb, Eliza, is thy part. 






And thine that latest sigh : 



SONG. 
Tune—" Roslin Castle." 

I. 

The gloomy night is gath'ring fast, 
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast, 

Along the lonely banks of Ayr. 



The Autumn mourns her ripening cc 
By early Winter's ravage torn ; 
A,-ro_-= her placid, azure sky, 



™i;; 


a danger I must da 
bonnie banks of Ay 


o? a 


m. 

surging billow's ro 
fatal deadly shore : 
n every shape appea 



Farewell, my friends, farewell, my foes ! 
My peace with these, my love with those — 
The'bursting tears my heart declare, 
Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr ! 



BURNS — POEMS. 



THE FAREWELL, 



I 



e ; u u 



Time— " Good night and joy be wi' 

I. 

Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu. 

Dear brolhers of the miiilc tie ' 
Ye favour'd, ye enligbten'd few, 



big-belly'd bottle still eases my ci 

IT. 

The wife of my hosom, alas ! she did die ; 

For sweet consolation to church I did fly ; 
! I found that old Solomon proved it fair, 
I 'I hat a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all ci 



I onci 



i= tr- 



aded a v, 
I me that 



Oft have I 


net yonr soc 


al band, 




the 


L^rfu 


festive night 


Oft honour' 








-. Presided 








And by tha 




.■;;.;,!, 


b bright, 


Which n 








Strong men: 






eart shall writ 


Those happy s 


cues v 


hen far awa'. 






III 




May freedom, ha 




and love, 


Unite yo 






d design, 


Beneath th 






ye above, 


The glor 








That you n 


v k' 


he plu 




Still risn 


-':> 




Till order b 


right 




ely shine, _ 


Shall be my p 


aj'rVhen far awa. ' 






IV 




And you, ft 


rewell! wh 




Justly th 


i highest ba 




Heav'n ble 






r'd, noble na 


To masor 






a dear .' 




•st, p 






n™±5 


ar!y 


ea T'' 


blea\ 



SONG. 
Tune — ''Prepare, my dear Brethren, to ll 

No churchman am I for to rail and to write, 
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of n 

II. 

The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow ; 
I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low ; 
But a club of good fellows like those that a 

And a bottle like this, are my glory and care 
Here passes the squire on his brother — I 



With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. 
VI. 



For a 

[A Stanza added in a Mason Lodge.] 

Then fill up ; 
And honours 
May every t 
square, 
Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd v 






FRIAR'S GARSE HERMITAGE, 



Thou whom chance may hither lead, 
Be thou clad in russet weed. 
Be thou 



counsels on thy soul. 



May delude the thoughtless pair ; 
Let prudence bless enjoyment's cup, 
Then raptured sip, and sip it up. 

As thy day grows warm and high, 

Dost thou spurn the humble vale? 



Dangers, eagle-pinion'c 

id each cliffy 

While cheerful peace, v 

Chants the lowly dells a 



* Young's Night Thought?. 



DIAMOND 
ling close, 



life itself becomes 



CABINET LIBRARY. 

O, bitter mock'rv 
While down 



Saws of experience, sage and soun 

Is not, Art thou high or low ! 
Did thy fortune ebb or flow ? 
Did many talents gild thy span ? 
Or frugal nature grudge thee one ? 
Tell them, and press it on their mi 
As Ihou thyself must shortly find, 
The smile or frown of awful Heavi 

There solid self-enjoyment lies ; 

That foulii.li, selfish," faithless «i. 



To the bed of lasting s'eep; 
Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er av 
\ iiiu where dawn shall never bre 
Till future life, future no more, 

To light and joy unknown before. 
Si ranger, go ! Heaven be thy gu 
Quod the beadsman of Nith-sidc. 



Dweller in yon dungeon dark, 
Hangman of creation! mark 
Who in widow-weeds appears, 
Laden with unhonour'd years, 
Noosing with care a bursting pur 
Baited with many a deadly curse 



Pity's flood ther 
See those hands 
Hands that took 



erof 



le goes, unpitied, and unb: 
ut not to realms of e\erlasli 

ANTISTROPHE. 
irmies, lift thine eyes, 
ear, ye tort 'ring fiends,) 

ingel, hurl'd from upper sk 



:k'ry of the pompous bi 
the wretched vital part 
Iged beggar, with a 



t rags, unknown, and goes to Heaven. 



CAPTAIN MATTHEW HENDERSON, 

HO HELD THE PATENT 



t now his 


radiant course is 










A matchl 


ss heavenly light 



Death ! thou tyrant fell and bloody ; 



He's gane, he's gane ! I 
The ae best fellow e'er was 
Thee, Matthew, Nature's s 



PU Fraeman° 



Ye hilli . 
That proudly cock yi 
Ye cliffs, the haui " 



oi sailing yearns, 

Where echo slumber, 
ye Nature's sturdiest bairns 
My wailing numbe. s 



Wi' toddlin din, 






ly fox-gloves fair to see ; 
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie 



grassy blade 
it fragrance sh 



hell-w: 



d plie. 



It'ring pounds a yea 



Mourn, sooty 
Ye fisher heron. 
Ye duck and dri 



' Circling Xe W i a S! 



Mown, clam'ring craik? 



^ ." 






Wham we deplor. 
Ye houlets frae your ivy bow'r, 

What time the moon, wi' silent glc 
Sets up her horn, 

Wail thro' the dreary midnight hoi 
Till waukrife mor 



o 


ive 


s, forests, hills, a 


ad plains ! 


jf: I 




ye heard my canty 




Bui 




what else for me 








But tales 




An" 




my een the drappi 








Mann eve 


flow. 


Mc 




, spring, thou dar 


ing of the y 


Ilk c 








Thou 


,si 


Shoots up 


^"heia!" 


Thy gay 


green, flow'ry tr 













Wide o'er the naked world declare ' 


ON THE APPRO.A 


CH OF SPKIK 


The worth we've lost ! 








Now Nature hangs her 


mantle green 


Mourn him, thou sun, great source oflight ! 


On every blooming tr 




Mourn, empress of the silent night ! 




»' daisies whit 


And you, ye twinkling s'arnies bright, 






My Matthew mourn ! 


Now Phoebus cheers the 




For through your orbs he's ta'en his flight, 


And glads tbe azure 


kiesj 


IS e'er to return. 


Eut nought can glad th 
That fast in durance 


_ weary wight 


Henderson ! the man, the brother ! 






And art thou gone, and gone for ever * 


Now lav'rocks wake th 


merry morn. 




Aloft on dewy wing ; 




Life's dreary bound! 


Tbe merle, in his noont 




Like thee, where shall I find another, 


Makes woodland echo 




The world around ! 


Th Sin D gs T dro I v f 1 s, day To 


ny^anote, 


Go to your sculptured tombs, ye great. 








Wi' care nor thrall o 




But by the honest turf I'll wait, 






Thou man of worth • 


Now blooms the lily by 


the bank, 




Theprimros 




E'er lay in earth. 


The hawthorn's buddin 
And milk-wbite is th 


gintheVen. 




The meanest bind in fa 


r Scotland, 



THE EPITAPH. 

.y story's brief; 



For Matthew was a great 



-POEMS. 








A look of 
For Ma 


P ,hew h wi r a 


% 


man. 


If thou a noble sodger art, 
That passes', by this grav 

There moulders here a galls 
For Matthew was a brav 


KSL 


If thou on 

Canst t 

For Ma 


men, their 
tv'ha weel li 


d won thy praise 


If thou at 
Wad li 

Thy symp 


friendship* 


n, rn 

kfnd 


dca', 
fa', 


If thon art staunch withou 
Like the unchanging blu 

This was a kinsman o' thy 
For Matthew was a true 


i? : 



For Matthew was a 



PIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

nds I No heels to bear hit 



But as for thee, thou false M 



Grim v 


ngeance, yet, 


shall w 


jet a sw 


That 




shall ga 




The we 








Was 




othee; 




Nor th' 


balm that dra 


pson w 




Frae 


woman's pitying e'e. 





tethy mother's fae; 
earts to thee ; 
meet'st thy mother' 



from the opening dun ; 



No horns, but those by luckless Hym 
And those, alas ! not Amalthea's hoi 
No nerves olfactory, Mammon's trusi 
Clad in rich dulness' comfortable fur. 
In naked feeling, and in aching pridi 
He bears the unbroken blast from eve 
Vampyre booksellers drain him to thi 

Critics— appall'd, I venture on the 
Those cut-throat bandits in the paths 
Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Mi 
He hacks to teach, they mangle to ex 



norn! 


Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd, in the unei 




strife. 




The hapless poet flounders on through life, 


o' death 


Till fled each hope that once his bosom fire 




And fled each muse that glorious once 


deck the spring. 






Low sunk in squalid, unprotected age, 




Dead even resentment for his injured page, 




He heeds or feels no more the ruthless crit 



TO ROBERT GRAHAM, Esq 



One shakes 
Thou |iv"s" 



The cit and polecat stink 

The priest and hedge-hog in their robes ai 



But Oh ! thou bi 

To thy poor, fe 

Bard! 



So, by some hedge, the generous steed d 
For balf.starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast 
Lies senseless of each tugging bitch's son, 



depress'd, 


O dulness ! portion of the truly bless'd ! 


oVt's wail v 


Calm shelter 'd haven of eternal rest! 




Thy sous ne'er madden in the fierce extreme 


°ng ^^er 


Of fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams. 








With sober selfish ease they sip it up : 


ing trade ! 


Conscious the bounteous meed they well il 


arraigu ; 


They only wonder, « some folks' do not star' 




The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog 


found, 


And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog. 




When disappointment snaps the clue of hop 




And thro' disastrous night they darkli 




grope, 
With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear, 


guards his 










So, heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks. 




Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox 








Not so the idle muses' mad-cap train, 


with their 


Not such the workings of their moon-slru 


ir robes are 


In equanimity they never dwell, 




By turns in soaring heaven, or vaulted hell. 


J spear and 


I dread the fate, relentless and severe, 




With all a poet's, husband's, father's fear 



BURNS.— rOEMS. 



With many a filial tear circling the bed ol 



i Thick mists, obscure. 
I Tho' oft I turn 'd then 
Nae ray of fame was 
Thou found 'st me like I 
That melts the fogs ii 
I he friendless bard and 
Became alike thy fosl 



And as he tun'd his doleful sang, 
The winds, lamenting thro' their caves, 
To echo bore the notes alang. 

" Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing, 
The relics of the vernal quire '. 

Ye woods that shed on a' the winds 
The honours of the aged year I 

A few short months, and glad, and gas , 



Why did I live to see that day ! 

A day to me so full of woe! 
0! had I met the mortal shaft 

Which laid mybenefactor low ! 

" The bridegroom may forget the b 
Was made his wedded wife yestrf 

The monarch may forget the crown 
That on his head an hour hath be 

The mother may forget the child 
Tbat smiles sae sweetly on her ki 

But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, 
da' that thou hast done for im 



And my last hald of earth is gan 



Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever'st, 
Who, save thy mind's reproach, nougl 

earthly fear'st, 
To thee this votive off'ring I impart, 
•' The tearful tribute of a broken heart." 
The friend thou valued'st, I the patron lov'd 



Unheard, unpitied, unrelieved, 



TAM O' SHANTER : 



"And last, (the sum of a' my griefs') 
The flower amang our barons bold, 



On forward wing for e\er flel. 

'•- Awake thy last sad voice, my harp ! 
'I'he voice of woe and wild despair ; 



An' folk begin to tak the gate ; 
While we sit bousing at the nappy, 
An' gettin' fou an' unco happy, 
We think na on the lang Scots mjfes; 

That lie bet'ween us'and^u^hami, "' 
Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Gathering ber brows lite gathering si 
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. 



(Aula Ayi 
For hones 



th fand honest Tarn o' Shanle. 
Ayr ae u ght did canter, 

t men and bonny lasses. )* 

! hadst thou but been sae wise, 
ay ain wife Kat, 



e [Sove 



l skelluin, 
<en blellu 






market night, 



i elbow, 



Tam lo .. .. 
They had been foi 
The night drave c 

The landlady and 
Wi' favours, seer 
The souter lauld 1 
The landlord's lat 
The storm withou 
Tam did na mind 

Care, mad to se 

As bees ilee hame 
The minutes wins 
Rings may be bl« 



Ubty, drouthy crony.; 

thegit'her. 



like poppies spread, 



Weel mounted on his gt 
Tam skelpit on through di 



'J he 1^1. i.iings flash froi; 
Neai ?nd more near .he i 

&rkAflowa me Ieem'd r m 

And loud resounded mirt 



Warlocks and witch ( 
Nae cotillon brent ne 
But hornpipes, jigs. 







:auld ha 


d held a light,— 




vhich h 


roic Tam was able 


lo 


ote upo 


n the haly table, 


i 11 








IV 








All 


iefnew 


cutted f 






his last 


gasp his 








wks, wi 


blude red-rusted 


In 






urder crusted ; 












ife, a fa 




roat had mangled, 




jm his a 


nsono 


life bereft. 



id quicker flew ; 



EURNS.-POEMS. 



They reel'd, they s 

Till ilka earijn swat ! 
Aud coost her daddies 
And liuket at it in he] 



That ance were plush o' guid blue' hair, 



But wither'd beldams auld and droll 
Louping and flinging on a crummoek, 

But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' 1 
There was ae winsome wench and wal 
That night enlisted in the core, 
(Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore ! 



ls on a' thegither, 

" Weel done Cutty sark ! ' 



When out the hellish 



Ah, Tam ! Ah, Tam ! t 

In hell tbey '11 roast thee li 
In vain thy Kate awaits tl 
Kate soon will be a waefu 
>;ow, do thy speedy utmo: 



But ere the key-stane she conld ma 
The fient a tail she had to shake ! 

i L r >:.mnie, far before the rest, 
Hard upon noble fesie ;,ress'd, 



nd her ain griv tail : 

ft poor Maggie scarce a stum; 



Inhuman 

May ne 
Nor ever 


sted be !hy m 
ver pity sooih 
pleasure glad 


'the' 


uel heart 


pr 


The bitter little that 


ofth 
flife 


reTair 


d field 


No mo 


re the 


thicken 


ngb 


akes and 


verdar 


To thee shall h 


me, or 


food, 


or pastim 


e yield 


Seek, ma 


ogled 


wretch 


som 


place of 


wonte 


The s 


e of r 


?S 


now thy dying 


•er'th 


The cold 


earth 


with thj 




dy bosom 


press'd 


Oft as by 
The so 

And curs 
ha 


wind 
sthee 


D °ofha 

=--'_ r:; ;' 


, Im 

Ithe 


C the e dewy 


.im' l'i' 



ON CROWNING HI3 BUST AT EDNA 
BUKGHSHIRE, WITH Bj» £S 

While virgin Spring, by Eden's floo 
Unfolds her tender mantle green, 
Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, 



While Summer, with a 

Retreats to Drjburglr 
Yet oft, delighted, stops ^ l»^= 

The progress of the spiky bladf 
WTiile Autumn, benefactor kind, 

By Tweed erects his aged heac 



ding si 






DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



While maniac Winter 
The hills whence cla 

Or sweeping, wild, ■ 



The poor m 

But with si 
May I be 



A BARD'S EPITAPH. 



EPITAPHS. 



Krre souter John in death does sleep : 

Toheil, if he's gane thither, 
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep, 



ON A NOISY POLEMIC. 



ON WEE JOHNNY. 

Hicjacei wee Johnny. 

•t thou art, O reader, know, 



FOR THE AUTHOR'S FATHER. 
O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains, 



The pitying heart that felt for hnm: 
The' dauntless heart that fear'd 



FOR R. A. Esq. 



Is there a 


whim-inspired fool, 


Owr 


;> = • t\ 




Ov.r 


Mate 


o seek, owre proud to snool, 


A -id 


»wre tL 


is grassy heap sing dool, 


Is 


there a 


bard of rustic song, 


V.'li 


, r.r,:e'. 


ss, steals the crowds among, 


Tha 


weekl. 


0, pass not by ! 


Eat, 


with a 


frater-feeling strong, 
Here heave a sigh. 



t'et runs, himself, life's mad career, 

lere pause — and, through the starting tsar, 
Survey this grave. 



U thoughtless follies 



Reader, attend—whether thv soul 
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole. 
Or darkly grubs this earthly hole, 



ON THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S 

PEREGRTXATIOXS THROUGH SCOTLAND; 
COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THJ T 



Hear, Land o* Ca 


kes, and brither Scots 


Frae Mai 


denkirk 


o Johnny 




If there's 


a hole i 




SJ5, 


Achield' 


samang 


Yoa.VIki 
And, Haiti 


ng notes, 
, he'il pren 


If in your bounds ve chat 


ce to light 


Upon a fi 
0' statur 


ne, fat, 


fodgel wi 






J ,-ei..'J- 


bright, 






fhat 's he 


mark weel- 




e 



And raw ! he has an unco sleight 
O'cauk and keel. 

By some auld, honlet-haunted biggin,* 
Or kirk, deserted bv its riggin, 
It's ten to ane ye 'II find him snug in 

Wi* deils, they say, L -d safe's ! colleaguii 

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chamer 
$"e gipsy-gang that deal in glamor, 

qu 'ye^'la'nilht'bitehM. 

It's tauld he was a sodger bred, 



Of Eye's first fire he has a cinder: 
Auld Tubal-Caiu's fire-shool and fende: 
That which distinguished the gender 



He'll prove you" i 
Or lang-kail gnll 



But wad ye see him in his glee, 
For meikle glee and fun has he, 
Then set him down, and twa or thi 



inty chiel, O Grose ! 
They sair misca'' tl 



B Vide his Antiquities of Scotland. 



POEMS. 

TO MISS CEUIKSHANKS. 



Beauteous rose-bud, young and gay, 
Blooming on thy early May, 
Ne-.vr niav'st thou, lovely flow 'r, 
Chill;, =iirink in sleety show'r! 
Never Boreas' boary path, 
Never Eurus' pois'nous breath, 
Never baleful stellar lights. 
Taint thee with untimely blights ! 
Never, never reptile thief 
Riot on thy virgin leaf ! 
Nor ever Sol too fiercely view 
Thy bosom blushing still with dew ! 



Dropping dews, and breathing balm, 
And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings ; 



Shed thy dying houo 



SONG. 

Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, 

VY'hen'faled to despair?* """' 
Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair, 



IN READING, ET A NEWSPAPER, 
THE DEATH OF JOHN M'LEOD, ESQ. 



Sweetly deck'd with pearly dew 



And so that heart was 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Dread Omnipotence, alone, 
Can heal the wound he gave ; 

Can point the brimful grief- worn eyes 
To scenes beyond the grave. 



Mv Lord, I know yo 


ur noble e 


\v 






Emb 




beg you'll 


Yo 


ur humble slav 


e complain 


11 J w 

In 


fllmYnfsnmm 




Do- 


withering, was 






d drink my cry 


stal tide. 


The 


ighfly jumping 


glowrin t 


Thai thro' my wa 


tersplay, 








Th 


ey near the margin stray 


If, 1 




ill--, limr. 


Pr 




so shallow 


They 






In 


gasping death 


to wallow 


Last 


day I grat, wi 


spite and 






aeby, 


Tin 


, to a bard I should be se 



negyr 



Buth; 



: ,-!,;,„„ 



•Ill/go 



Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks, 

There, high "my boiling torrent smokes, 
Wild-roarine o'er a linn : 

:h spring and well 



Asm 



e then 



Would then my noble master pleas 
To grant my highest wishes, 

He'll shade my banks wi' tow'rin 
And bonnie spreading bushes ; 

Delighted doubly then, my Lord, 



And listei 
Return 



nony a grateful bird 
du tuneful thanks. 



The sober laverock warbling 
Shall to the skies aspire ; 

The blackbird strong, the II 



In all her locks of yellow 
This too, a covert shall ins 



And here, by sweet 

Shall 

Despisir 



eye the snuking, dewy lawn, 
ad misty mountain, grey; 
Or, by the reaper's nightly beam, 



ifty firs, and ashes cool, 

lowly banks o'erspread, 

And'view, deep-bending in the pool, 

Their shadows' watery bed! 

st fragrant birks in woodbines dn 

My craggy cliffs adorn ; 

Ami for the little songster's nest, 

" e close embow 'ring thorn. , 



To screen the dear < 



'ith all their wealth 

ie in all their charms 
en to grace, 

fragrant arms 



So may o' 

Your li 

Spring, li 



', Jari; 



And Alhole's bonnie lasses ! " 

ON SCARING ROME WATER-FOWL, 
on loch-tukit; 



Why, ye tenants of the lake, 
For me your watery haunt fors 
Tell me, fellow-creatures, whj 
At my presence thus you fly ? 
Why disturb your social joys, 
Parent, filial, kindred ties ? 
you and me 






> all at 



Plumes himself in Freedom '5 pride, 
Tyrant stern to all beside. 

The eagle, from the cliffy brow, - 
Marking you his prey below. 
In his breast no pity dweUs, 
Strong necessity compels. 
But man, to whom alone is giv'n 
A ray direct from pitying heav'r., 
Glorious in his heart humane— 

In these savage, liquid plains, 
Only known to wand'ring swains, 
"let strays: 



Far from hu. 
All on Natur 
And life's po 

Or, if mat 



WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL 



, savage journey curious, I pursue, 

11 famed Breadalbane opens to my view 

te meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen di- 

le woods, wild-scalter'd, clothe their amph 



outstretching lake, embosom'd 

hills, 
eye with wonder and amazemi 



The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless ha 
The village, glittering in the noontide be; 

The sweeping theatre of hanging wools ; 

Here Poesy might wake her heav'n-tanght 

lyre, 
And look through nature with creative fire : 
Here, to the uFo:i£s t fate h.uf reconciled, 
Misfortune's lighten'd steps might wands 

And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds, 
Find balm to soothe her bitter rankling 



.POEMS. 

beart-strnck Grief might heaveii-wi 
njured Worth forget and pardon man. 



WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL, 



221 



Till i'u 
When 


. t'ur.: 




he rocky mounds, 


Ashig 

As ■' !< 

Prone 




ing^ 


s foam below, 

re whitening shoot de 



i. POSTHUMOUS CHILD, 





FAMILY I 


ISTKES 


Sweet Flow'ret, 
And ward 0' n 

What heart 0' s 
Sae helpless, 


pled? 

-"'•:■ - 


o'meil 
prayer, 


" Chili 
Should 


hirple 
ithy 1 


'the! 


'rm J 63 ' 


May He who giv 
And wings th 

Protect thee frae 
The bitter fro 


esthe 
blast 


rain to p 



DIAMOND CABINET LIERARY. 



THE WHISTLE: 



., 1= ,;;11 here give it._ 
>f Denmark, when she c 



pion of Bacchus. He had a little ebony 
Whistle which at the commencement of the 
orgies he laid on the table, and whoever was 
last able to blow it, every be-dy else being dis- 
abled bv the potency of the bottle, was to carry 
off the"Whistle as a trophy of victory. "" 



oduced credentials of 

hagen, Stockholm, Moscow, W 
several of the petty courts in G( 
challenged the Scots Bacchanalia! 
ternative of trying his prowess, c 



Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the 
Scaur, 
Unmatch'a at the bottle, unconquer'd in war, 
He drank his poor godship as deep as the 

if the Baltic e'er drunker than he. 
Robert victorious, the trophy has 
low in his house has for ages re- 
Till three noble chieftains, and all of his 
he jovial contest again have renew'd. 
Three joyous good fellows, with hearts clear 



Cr^igdarroch began, with a tongue smooth 



, in claret, try which was t) 



n the Whistle his requiem shrill. 



!y the gods of the anciei 



s._On Friday the 161 



of October 


1790, 


at Friars 


Carse 


"the ' 






on tended 


fur, a 


= r.i"l 


the ballad, 




resent Sir Robert Law 


Masweltoi 


; Robe 


t Riddel 


L H . 


of Gle 


del, lineal 




Jaiit and 






Walter Riddel, w 




e \\L 


Vli,",' :• 


whose family it ha 






1 .lie:- 


fcenSrf 


Esq. of 










the gre 


at Sir Robert; 


whicl 


gentleman 


carried off the 






the field. 











And bumper his horn with him twenty times 

rt, a soldier, no speech would pre- 

But he ne'er tutn'd his back on his foe— or his 

friend. 
Said, Toss down the Whistle, the prize of the 

■et, he'd die or boM 



I sing of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth, 
I sing of a Whistle, the priJe of the North, 
Was brought to the court of our good Scottis! 

And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall 
ring. 

i of Fingal, 

va from his 

to Scotland 



yield. 
To the board of Glen 



And tell future ag( 
And wish'd that 

The dinner bein 






.'rv u, 



er, the claret they ply, 
; a new spring of joy, 
ids of old friendship and kindred so 

ids grew the tighter the more they 



BURKS.— POEMS. 



Gay pleasure ran 
Bright Phoebus n 

forlorn, 
Till Cynthia hinlec 


riot as bumpers ran o'e 

leave theui he was qu 
he'd see them next mor 


Six bottles a-pi 


ce had well worn out 


When gallant Sir 


Robert, to finish the figh 



Then worthy Glenriddel, 



•r the i 



g Elder 



„,i , 



He left the foul business to folks less divine. 

The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the 

But who can with fate and quart bumpers con- 
tend ? 
Though fate said— a hero should perish in 

loabus and down fell 

Next up rose our bard, like a prophet ii 

«• Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creatioi 

shall sink ; 
But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme 
Come— one bottle more -and have at the sub 

lime! 

" Thy line, that have struggled for Freedon 



SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE, 



I'm three limes doubly o'er your debtor, 
For jour auld-farrent, frien'ly letter ; 
Tho' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter, 

Ye speak so fair s 
For my puir, silly, rhymin' clatter, 



Hale be your heart, hale be your fii 



Tae cheer you through 



* This is prefixed to the poems of David 
Sillar, published at Kilmarnock, 17S9, and 
has not before appeared in our author's printed 



But Davie, lad, I'm red ye'er glaikit ; 
I'm tauld the Muse ye ha" 
An'gifit'ssae, ye sud be lickit 

Until ye fyke ; 
Sic bans as you sud ne'er be faikit, 

Be hain't wha like. 

Forme, I'm on Parnassus' brink, 
Rivin' the words tae gar them clink ; 
Whyles daez't wi' love, whyles dae: 

An' whyles, but aye owre late, I think, 



Of a' the thoughtles: 
Commen' me to the 1 
Except it be some id 
O' 
The devil-haet, that 



ON MY EARLY DAYS. 
irst^onirthiesh^hTbarn ; 



wi' the lave ilk merry morn 
mid rank my rig and lass, 



No nation, n< 
My envy e' 

A Scot still, 1 
I knew nae 

But still the elem( 
In formless iumbl. 
Wild ft 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

Th' increasing bias 

rocks, 

The clouds, swifi 

-m. rJSky ' 
The groaning trees 



har'st 1 said before, 



SONG. 

Tunc— "Bonnie Dundee." ... 
Mauchline there dwells six proper young 
the place and its neighbour- 



The 



Miss 






1 ,MUs 



SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR. 

The lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare, 

Th' inconsta'nt blast howl'd thro' the darl 
ing air, 
And hollow whistled in the rocky cave. 



Or mused where lim 

well,? 

Or mould 'ring rui 



lehallow'd 
red fane. || 



* The reader will find some explanation c 

f This 'is one of our Bard's early prodnc 
tions. Miss Armour is now Mrs Burns. 
i The King's Park at Holyrood-house. 

St Anthony's Well. 
I! St Anthony's Chapel. 



roar'd round the beetlim 

wing'd, flew o'er the star 

ntimely shed their locks, 
sore caught the slardinj 



Wild to my heart the filial pulses glov 

'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I 

Her form majestic droop'd in pensive i 



Reversed th 


at spear, redoubtable in war, 


Reclin'd 


that banner, erst in fields 


furl' 




That like a 


d'eathful meteor gleam'd afar, 


And bra 


ed the mighty monarchs of 


worl 


i — 


"wuTacc 


t son fills an untimely grave ! ' 
the hand that oft was stretch' 


"Low' lies 






Low lies 


he heart that swell'd with hor 



Relentless 
• My patrio 



dom's blossoms richly blow ! 

has laid the guardian low 

;, but shall he lie unsung, 



"And I will join 

Thro' future tin 

That distant yi 




■< life- 



BURNS — POEMS. i 

And the Moro Ion was laid at the sound ol 
drum. 

Lal de daudle, &c. 

III. 

I lastly was with Curtis, among the floa 

And there I left for witness an arm an 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS: 







And now though I must beg with a 












And many a tatler'd rag hanging ov 


When lyart leaves bestrow the j 






Or wavering like the bauekie-bi 




I'm as happy with my wallet, my bot 


Bedim cauld Boreas' blast ; 




my collet, 




r skyte, 


As when I used in scarlet to follow the c 


And infant frosts begin to bite, 




Lal de daudle, &c. 


In hoary cranreach drest ; 












0' randie, gangrel bodies, 




What tho' with hoary locks, I must sta 


In Poosie-Nansie's held the sp! 










Beneath the woods and rocks ofteu time 


Wi' quaffing and laughin 




home, 






When the tother bag I sell, and the 


Wi' jumping and thump 






The very g.rdle rang. 




I could meet a troop of hell, at the so 


First, neist the fire, in auld red 




Lal de daudle, &C. 














His doxy lay within his arm, 




RECITATIVO. 



ile she held up her greedy gab 

Ilk smack still did crack still, 
Just like a cadger's whip, 

Then staggering and swaggerin 
He roar'd this ditty up— 



1 am a son of Mars who h 
And show my cuts and scar: 



Lal de daudle, &c. 



He ended ; and the kebars sheuk, 

Aboon the chorus roar ; 
While frighted rattans backward leu!'., 

A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,' 

But up arose the martial chuck, 
And laid the loud uproar. 



ing the French at the 
Lal de daudle, &c. 



My 'prenticeship I pass'd where my leader 

breath'd his last, 
When the^ bloody die was cast on the heights 



A The old Scotch name for lite bit. 



I once was a 
And still my 

daddie 
No wonder I 


maid, tho' I cannot tell wh 
delight is in proper young n 
f a troop of dragoons wa 

; m fond of a sodger laddie. 
Sing, Lal de lal, &c 


The first of t 
To rattie the 
His leg was 

Transported 


II. 

thundering drum was his t 
so tight, and his cheek w 


was I with my sodger laddi 
Sing, Lal de lal, &e. 



But the godly old chaplaij 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



vjntur'd the soul and I risked the body, 
fas then I piov'd false to niy sodger laddie 
Sing, Lai de lal, &c. 



Full soon I grew 
The regiment at 
From the gild* 



-rind. prnr, 
ingham fair ; 
d so gaudy, 



VI. 

And now I have liv'd— I know not how long, 

And still I can join in a cup or a song ; 

But whilst with both hands I can hold the 

glass steady, 
Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. 
Sing, Lal de lal, &c. 

Then niest outspak a raucle carlin, 
Wha kent sae weel to cleek the sterling, 
For monie a pursie she had hooked, 
And had in mony a well been ducked. 
Her dove had been a Highland laddie, 
But weary fa' the waefu' woodie ! 
Wi' sighs and sobs she thus began 
To wail her braw John Highlandman. 



A Highland lad my love was born, 
The Lalland laws he held in scorn ; 
But he still was faithfu' to his clan, 
My gallant braw John Highlsmdman. 



Was match for in 


y John Highland! 


With his philibeg a 

The ladies' hearts h 
My gallant braw Jo 


II. 

n' tartan plaid, 
3own by his side, 
e did trepan, 



We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, 
An' lived like lords and ladies gay ; 
For a Lalland face he feared none, 
My gallant braw John Highlandman 



AJown my cheeks the pearls ran, 
Embracing my John Highlandman. 

V. 

But, oh ! they catch'd him at the las 
And bound him in a dungeon fast: 
My curse upon them 



No comfort but a hearty can, 
When I think on John Highlandman. 
Sing, hey, &c. 






Wha used at trysts : 

Hf 

Had hol'd his hearii 

An' blawn't on fir. 

Wi' hand on haunch, an' upward e 

Then in an Arioso key', 

The wee Apollo 
Set off wi' Allegretto glee 

His giga solo. 

Tune — " Whistle owre the lave 

I. 

Let me ryke up to dight that tear t 



driddle, 
niddle 
e higher. 



till Daddie Ca 

er the lave o't. 

I am, &c. 



hile I kittle hair on thairms, 



RECITATIYO. 

Her charms had struck a sturdy CairJ, 

As weel as poor Gutscraper ; 
He taks the fiddler by the beard, 

And draws a rusty rapier — 
lie swoor by a' was swearing -worth, 

To speet him like a pliver, 
Unless he would from that time forth, 

Relinquish her for ever. 

W ghastly e'e, poor tweedle dee 

Upon his hunkers bended, 
And pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, 

And sae the quarrel ended. 
But though his little heart did grieve, 

"When round the tinkler prest her, 
He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve, 

When thus the caird aoiressM her. 



AIR. 

« Clout the Cauldron. ' 



My bonnie lass, I work in brass, 

A tinkler is my station ; 
I've travell'd round all Christian ground 

In this my occupation, 
I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd 

In many a noble squadrou : 
But vain they searcn'd, when off I uiarch'd 

To go and clout the cauldron. 

I've ta'en the gold, &c. 

II. 

Despise that shrimp, that withei'd imp, 

Wi' a' his noise an' caprin', 
An' tak' a share wi ; those that bear 

The budget an' the apron. 
An' by that stowp, my faith and houp, 

An' by that dear Keilbagie,* 
If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, 

.May I ne'er weet my craigie. 

An' by that stowp, &c> 

RECITATIYO. 

The caird prevail'd— the unblushing fair 

In his embraces sunk. 
Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair, 

An' partly she was drunk. 
Sir Violino, with an air 

That show'd a man of spunk, 
Wish'd unison between the pair, 

Ad' made the bottle clunk 

To their health that night. 

But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft 

That play'd a dame a shavie, 
The fiddler rak'd her fore and aft, 

Behint the chicken eavie. 
Her lord, a wight o' Homer's f craft, 

Tho' limping with the spavie, 
He hirpl'd up, and lap like daft, 

An' shor'd them Daintie Davie 
boot that night. 



-POEMS. 

He was a care-defying blade 

As ever Bacchus listed, 
Though Fortune sair upon him laid, 

His heart she ever miss'd it. 
He had no wish but— to be glad, 

Nor want but — wheu he thirsted ; 
He hated nought but— to be sad. 

And thus the Muse suggested, 

His sang that night. 



Tme—" For a' that, an' a' tl 

I. 

[ am a bard of no resard, 
Wi' senile folks, an' a' that : 

Jut Homer-like, the glowran byke, 
Frae town to town I draw that. 



II. 

never drank the Muse's stank, 
Castalia's burn, an' a' that ; 
Jut there it streams, and richly r< 
My Helicon I ca' that. 

For a' that, &c. 

III. 



* A pecaliar sort of whisky so called, 
great favourite with Poosie-Nansie's clubs." 
t Homer is allowed to be the oldest ballad 
! singer on record. 



a' the fair, 



Great love I 

Their humble slave 
But lordly will, I hold it still 

A mortal sin to thraw that. 
For a' that, , 



IV. 



In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, 

Wi' mutual love an' a' that ; 
But for how lang the flie may stang, 

Let inclination law that. 

For a' that, &c 

V. 

Their tricks and craft have pat me daft, 
They've ta'en me in an' a' that : 

But clear your decks, and here's— the sex ! 
I like the jads for a' that, 

*' For a' that, an' a' that, 
An' twice as meikle's a' that : 

My dearest bluid, to do them guid, 
They're welcome till't for a' that. 

RECITATIYO. 

So sung the bard— and Nansie's wa' 
Shook with a thunder of applause, 

Re-echo'd from each mouth ; 
They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd th<-i 

They scarcely left to co'er their fads, 
To quench their lowan drouth. 

Then owre again, the jovial thrang, 

The poet did request, 
To lowse his pack an' wale a sang, 

A ballad o' the bests 



Between ] 
Looks roum 



DL1MOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

There's a heretic blast has bee., bl 

That wha't is no sense must be nc 

Dr Mac,f Dr Mac, you should b 



" Jolly Mortals fill jour Glasses. 3 



A fig for those by law protected ! 

Liberty's a glorious feast ! 
Courts for oowcrds were erected, 

Churches built to please the pri 

II. 

What is title ? what is treasure F 

What is reputation's care? 
If we lead a life of pleasure, 



A fig, ; 

IIL 

Vith the ready trick and fable, 



liter scenes of love 
A fig, &< 



S A fig, e 'i;. 



THE KIRK'S ALARM.* 



Orthodox, orthodox, wha belies 
Knox, 
Let me sound an alarm to your c 



To strike evil doer; 
To join faith and sen: 



D'rymple mild,§ D'rymple mild, Iho' 
heart's like a child, 
And your life like the new driven snaw 

For preaching that three's ane an' twa 

Rumble John,|| Rumble John, monul 

steps wi' a groan, 

Cry the book is wi' heresy cramm'd ; 

Then lug out the ladle, deal briinstoni 

adle, 

And roar ev'ry note of the damn'd. 

Simper James,T Simper James, leave th 
Killie dames, 
There's a holier cbace in your view ; 
I'll lay on your head, that the pack ye '11 

For puppies like you there's but few. 

Unci 
Wi' a jump, jell, and howl, alarm < 

For the foul thief is just at your gate. 

Daddy Auld.ft Daddy Auld, there's a to 
the fanld. 

the clerk ; 



Tho'yeca 
Andifyi 



lo little i 



labite ye may bark. 



If the ass was the ki 



> Goose, § 
But the Doctc 



of the brutes. 
Jamie Goose, ye hae made but 

s wicked lieutenant ; 

a your mark, for the L— d's 

'd and cawd a wrang pin in'u 



BURNS. 

Poet Willie,* Poet Willie, gie the Doctor a 

Wi' your liberty's chain and jour wit ; 
'er Pegasus' side you ne'er laid a stride, 
Ye but smelt, man, the place where hesh-t, 

Audro Gouk.f Andro Gouk, ye may slauder 

And the look not the waur let me tell y( 



t lay by hat and 
wig, 
And ye'll hae a calf's head o' sma' value. 

Barr Steenie.i Barr Steenie, what mean ye ? 
what mean ye ? 
If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter, 
Ye may ha'e some pretence to bavins and 

Wi' people wha ken ye nae better. 

Irvine side,§ Irvine side, wi'your turkey-cock 
pride, 
Of manhood but sma' is your share ; 



Muirland Jock,|| Muirland Jock, when the 
L— d makes a rock 
To crush Common Sense for her sins, 
If ill manners were wit, there's no mortal 

To confound the poor Doctor at ance. 

Holy Will, *fi Holy Will, there was wit i' your 



I swing in a rape for an hour. 



Poet Burns, Po 

skelping li 

Why desert ye 

Your muse is a 



re storehouses o' lead. 



THE TWA HERDS.** 



Oa 


ye piou 


godly flocks, 




We 


1 fed on 


pastures orthod 




Wh 












ig tykes, 


* 


Mr P - 


s.Ayr, + 


Dr A. M 








, Bat 


§ 


Mr S— 


-h, GalstonT" " 


11 Mr S 




B J 


An Elder in M 


-ucf.Ltie 




*Thist 




g the fir 












and was oceas 


oned by 


bel 


veeu tw 


clergymen, ne 


ir Kiluia 



herds in a' the wastj 



Ha'e 



>r black m 



sel. 



O, M y, man, and worthy 

How could you raise so vile a bustle, 
Ye'll see how new-light herds will whis 

And think it fine 1 
The Lord's cause ne'er got sic a twissle, 

Sin'Iha'emin'. 

0, Sirs ! whae'er wad ha'e expeckit, 

To wear the plaid, ' 
But by the brutes themsels clekit, 



11, 



The Thummart 


wil'-cat 


brool 


, and tod, 


Weel 






a' th 


wood, 


He smelt their i 


ka hole 


I'.dr.j 








Baith o 


j! a.i.l 




And* 


eel he lik 


And sell their 


skin.' 


What 


herd like 


R 11 


eU'dh 


s tale, 


Hisv 


i-:e w::sh 


eard thro 






He ke 


ud the Lo 




, ilka 








O'er a 


the he 


ght. 


Ands 


iw gin th 


y ^ S 


ek or 1 





And new-light herds could nicely drub, 

Or pay their skin, 
Could shake them o'er the burning dub ; 



Wh 


le new-light here 
Say 


.s wiMaughii 
neither's liei 


spite, 


A'y 
The 

Hut 


e wha tent the go 

e's D n, dee 

chiefly thou, apo 


, andP- — 
5tle A— il, 


— s, shaul, 


Tha 


thou wilt work 
Till 


hem, bet and 
they agree. 


catJd, 


I lie 
Hat 


ider, Sirs, how 
comes' frae 'man 


we're beset, 
herd that we 


S'U 


Iho 


Iw 

pe frae heav'n to 


sTtheTyet 





DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



I) e has been lang our fae, 

M< 11 has wrought us meikle wae, 

Aud that curs'd rascal ea'd M« e, 



AndbaiththeS s, 


But better stuff ne'er claw 


da midden ! 


That aft ha'e made us black and blae, 






Wi> vengefu' paws. 


Ye ministers, come mom 










Auld W w lang has hatch'd mischief, 


For Eighty-eight he wish' 




We thought aye death wad bring relief, 


An'giedyoua'baithgear 




But he has gotten, to onr grief, 


E'en mony a plack, an' m 


nyapeek, 



A chield wha'll toundly buff our bee 

And monie a ane that I could tell, 
Wha fain would openly rebel, 
Forby turu-coats amang oursel, 

There S— h for ant 
I doubt he's but a grey-nick quill, 

And that ye'll fin'. 

O ! a' ye flocks o'er a' the hills, 
By mosses, meadows, moors, aud fel 
Come join your counsel and your ski 



Then Orthodoxy yet may pra 
And learning in a woody dan. 
And that fell cur ca'd Coram. 
That bites s 
Be banish'd 



Let him bark there, 
law's and Dalrymple's eloquence, 



M'Q— e' 

Wi' S- 



THE HENPECK'D HUSBAND. 
irs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in 1 



\Yh 
Wh 


must to 


,,r h 


. , , 


in L.-r 

rlend' 














e such th 


,..!i 








reak Tier 






Lreak 




harm her 




the ma 


sic of 


I'd kiss her m 




and kick the p 



ELEGY ON THE YEAR 1 



The Spanish empire's tint a head, 
An' my auld toothless Bawtie's dead 
'I he toolzie's teugh 'tween Pitt an' 
An' our guidwife's wee birdy cocks ; 



Ye ken you 

Ye bonnie lasses, dight your een. 



Observe the very nowt an' sheep, 

Nay, even the yirth itsel' does cry, 
For Embro' wells are grutten dry. 

O Eighty-nine thou's but a bairn, 

Thou beardless boy, I pray tak' care, 
Thou now has got thy daddy's ' 

T\J„~ 1 ^ a-t.i — • — ItJ l- 



., haff-shackl'd Re- 



LINES WRITTEN BY BURNS, 



meetingof the Dumfries-shire Volur 
Id to commemorate the anniverst 
ictory, April 12th, 1782, 



Instead of a song, bo; 
Here's the memory oi 



BURNS— 

That we lost, did I say, nay, by heav'n ! that 

For their fame 'it shall last while the world 

The next in succession, 111 give you the King, 
Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he 

And cere's the grand fabric, our free Cocsti- 

of the great Revolution ; 



THE BIRKS OF AEERFELDY. 

Bonny lassie will ye go, will ye go, will ye so, 
Bonny lassie will ye go, to the Birks of Aber- 
feldy ? 

Now summer blinks on flowery hraes, 



Or lightly flit on wanton wing 
InthebirksofAberfeldy. 

Bonnie lassie, &C. 

The braes ascend like lofty wa's, 
The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's. 
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws, 
The birks of Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie lassie, &«. 

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, 
White o'er the linns the h-jrnie noi.rs. 



Bet fortune's gifts at 



Tune—" An Giile dabh ciar dhubh. *• 

cflel^IrueC^cltye me l**"" "^ 

— 1 you know how m B eh you grieve me : 

■uel charmer, can you go i 

Eel ccrrmer, can you go ? 



* This was 



1 ScMci: 



By the pangs of lovers slighted! J 
Do not, do not leave me so ! 



STRATRALLAN'S LAMENT. 

Thickest night o'erhangs my dwelling ? 

Howling tempests o'er me rave ! 
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, 

Still surround my lonely cave '. 



In the cause of right engaged, 

Wrongs injurious to redress, 

Honour's war we strongly waged 






THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER. 

Tune— "Morag." 

Loud blaw the frosty breezes, 
The snaws the mountains cover ; 

Since my young Highland rover 
May heaven be his warden : 



Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging, 
The birdies dowie moaning, 

Shall a' be bljihely singing, 
And every flower be springing. 
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day, 

When by his mighty warden, 
My youth's return 'd to fair Strathspey, 

And bonnie Castle Gordon. 4. 



t Strathallan, it is presumed, was one of 
the followers of the young Chevalier, and is 
supposed to be lying concealed in some cave of 
the Highlands, after the battle of Cuiloden. 
This song was written before the year 1788. 

i The young Highland rover is supposed to 
be the young Chevalier, Prince Charles Ed- 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Sunshine days of joy and pleasi 
Hail, thou gloomy night of son 
Cheerless night that knows no i 



Life, thou soul of 
O how gladly I'd 



MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN. 

Tune—" Druimion dubh." 

Musing on the roaring ocean, 
Which divides my love and me ; 



Hope and fear's alternate 1 
Yielding late to nature's 

Wlusp'riog spirits round r. 
Talk of him that's far ai 



Gentle night, do thou befriend m 



BLYTHE WAS SHE. 

Blythe, blythe, and merry was sL 
Blythe was she but and beu ; 

Blythe by the banks of Ern, 
And blythe in Gienturit glen. 



Blythe, 
Her looks m 



*The occasio 
early c ornpositioi 



A Rose-bud by my early walk, 



arly in the i 
n shall see I 






o thou, dear bird, young Jea 



Tune. —"Neil Gow 



* This song was written during the w 
of 1787. Miss J. C. daughter of a frier 
the Herd) « the heroine. 



BURN'S POEMS. 



Blest be the wild, seqnester'd 
Where Peggy's charms I firs! 



TIBBIE, I HAE SEEM THE DAY. 

Tune— " Invercauld's Reel." 

Tibbie, I hae seen the day 
Ye would na been sae shy ; 
lightly me, 



truth lea 



a by. 



Yestreen I met you on the moo: 
Ye spak na, but gaed by Ike st. 
Ye geek at me because I'm poo 



I doubt na lass, but ye m; 

Tim ye' can pTease meTt ' 

Whene'er ye like to 'ry 

O Tibbie, I hae, &c. 



We part,— but by these precious drops, 
That till thy lovely eves ! 

■ ..•■■. . _ •:,■■,=, ■;., 
Till thy bright beams arise. 

She, the fair sun of all her sex, 
"is blest my glorious day : 

s j,il; a gl.mmerins; planet fix 



Tune—" Seventh of November. " 

_he blissl 

Ne'er summer l 
Than a' the pride that loads the tide, 

And crosses o'er the sultry line ; 
Tban kingly robes, than crowns and globes, 



a gav e 






w 



id night can bring delight, 
ut nature ought of pleasure give ! 

For thee, and thee alone, I live ! 



And answer him 
O Tibbie, I ha 


fu' dry. 
e, &c. 


But if he hae the n 

Yell fasten to him 

Tho' hardly he, for 

Be better than th 

O Tibbie, I ha 


tike a brier,' 
sense or lear, 


But, Tibbie, lass, t 
Your daddie's gear 
The deil a ane wad 

Tibbie, I ha 


ak my advice, 
maksjousaeri 


There lives a lass i 


yonder park, 


FoT^ewi? 1 :^; 

Ye need na look 
T.bbie, I ha 


Hg?^ 



THE LAZY JilST. 

The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the 

waling the course of the dark winding 

languid the scenes, late so sprightly, ap 
pear, 

The forTrs ^X^^tLa" Meadows are 

I all the gay foppery of summer is flown ; 



I do-.vnward, how weaken'd, how darken 



ung beyond it poor m 



To what dark ea 



O, WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL. 
Tu7ie—« My love is lost to me. " 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

And aye the wild w 



Ye birdies di 
Again ye'l 

But here, alt 
Shall bird. 



How much, how dear, I love thee, 

Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean 

Thy tempting lips, thy roguish e'en — 

By heaven and earth I love thee ! 

By night, by day, afield, at hanie, 

Tho' I "were doom'd to wander on, 
Be* ond the sea, beyond the sun, 
'Till my last, weary sand was run; 
•Till then—and then I love thee. 

I LOVE MY JEAN. 
Tune — " MissAlniiral Gordon's Straih: 
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 



Willie brew *d 
id Rob and i 
se blyther he; 



I dearly like the west 






For there 


the bonnie las 






The lassie I lo'e best: 






There wi 










rue a hill betw 






But day 


nd night my f 


ncy'sfl 


ght 


Is ever 


wi' my Jean. 






I see her 


n the dewy flo 


wers, 






r sweet and fa 






I hear he 


in the tunefu 


birds. 




I hear 


tier charm the 






There's i 


ota bonnie flower that 


sprii 


Byfou 


tain, shaw.-or 


green, 





Three merry b"ys I tr 
Andm 



let, three merry boys, 



We i 






It is the moon, I ken her horn, 

That's blinking in the lift sae hi; 

But by my troth she'll wait a we 
:fou, &c 

to gang awa, 



Wha first shall ri 

- juckold, coward lo 

I Wha first beside his chair shall fa', 



He is the ki 
Weai 



tefou, &cf 



THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE. 



THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE. 

The Catrine woods were yellow seen, 
The flowers decayed on Catrine lee,* 
>n hillock green, 



But m 



;s Maria 



a the ■■ 



* Catrine, in Ayrshire, the seat of Dugald 
Stewart, Esq. Professor of Moral Philosophy 
in the Uni'.eraity of Edinburgh. Ballochmyle, 
formerly the seat of Sir John Whil ■ rd,noi 
of Alexander, E q 



She talk'd, she smiled, my heart she wyl'd, 

She charmed my soul 1 wist na how ; 
A.nd aye the stound, the deadly wound, 



and Rob and Allan, 

friend, Allan Master- 
it fellows— all men of 
now liuder the turf 



A:\V~- 



QIH 



It 



- 






t3jgZ^j| 





UclldigjE 



BUKNS.— POEMS. 



But spare to s 
She'll aibli 

Should she r 
To her ti 



BANKS OF NITH. 

•■■ Robie Donna Gorach." 
iws proudly to the sea, 



d fom 
, Nifh, thy fruitful va 



;e hand 



ally bloom ; 
p . tiy wine my sloping aales 

v. . : ering, no 1 .;, must be my doom, 
rig the friends of early days ! 

T OHN ANDERSON MY JO. 



• lin Anderson, my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill thegither ; 
Ai.d mony a canty day, John, 

We've had wi' ane anither. 
I w we maun toiler down, Job 

rJut hand in hand we'll go: 
And sleep thegilher at the foot, 

john Anderson my jo. f 



eaking, dear t 



John Anderson, my jo, John, when naiure 

To try her canny hand, John, her masler- 

And you amang them a', J. n, sae trig frae 

tap to toe, 
She proved to be r.ae journey- worn, John An- 

Anderson, my jo, John, ye were my first 

pe na think it strange, John, tho' I ca' 

some folk say ye'Je auld, John, I never 
think ye so, 

think ye're aye th same to me, John 
Anderson, my jo 

John Anderson, my jo, . vr^'ve seen our 

yet my dear John A.de-sr I'm happy 

;ae are ye in mine, John — I'm sure ye '11 



Tho' 



ohu Ande'r: 



, tha. 



John Anders 



* The heroine of this song was Miss , 
Loehmaben. This lady, now Mrs R. 

with her husband in New York" North. A 



+ In the first voir 

Poetry, Original and i 
' "-'lof Glasgr 



of a colled 



j entitled, 
rinted bj 
ig is giver 



as follow: 

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO, IMPROVED. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, I wonder wha 
To rise so 



, John, nat pleas 
To see sae mony sprouts, JoJn, spring u. 

And ilka lad and lass, John, in our footsteps 
to go, 

Makes perfect heaven here on earth, John An- 
derson, my jo. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, when we were 

Your locks were like the raven, your bonnie 

But now your head's turned bald, John, yonr 

a your frosty pow, John An- 

; y jo- 
John Anderson, my jo, John, frae year to year 
And soon that year maun come John, will 

But let nae'that affright us, John, our hearts 
were ne'er our foe, 

While in innocent delight we lived, John An- 
derson, my jo. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, we clamb liie 

hill thegilher, 
And mony a canty day, John, we've had wi' 

ane anither ; 
New we maun totter down, John, but hand 



late at 






To anger them a' is a pity, 
But what will I do wi' Tarn Glen 

I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow, 
In poortith I might mat a fen : 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

My laddie's sae meik 



1 hei 

He L 


-; ■ 


the la 

U \OU 


so' I 

ance 


Dumeller, 

i's siller, 
ike Tarn Gle 


My i 

■1 £'■ 

Bu 


Hatter, s 


think 


antly 


deave me, 
oung men ; 

Tarn Glen ? 


My daddie say 


, gin I'll fo 


rsake him, 



My heart to my 

For thrice I drew 

And thrice it vs 

The last Hallowe 



MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL, 
neikle thinks my luve o' my beauty, 



Your proffer o' love's an arle penny, 
My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy; 



Gane is the day and m 



; the lawin, the lawi 
t the lawin, and bi 



lat can a young lassie, what shallayoun; 

1 luck on the pennie that tempted m 
a Ian' ! 



Bad It; 






i, lie. 



ilways compleening frae morning to 

He hosts an he hirples the weary day lang, 
He's doj'lt and he's dozin. his bluid it is 

ae night wi' a crazy auld man I 

He hums and he hankers, he frets and he 

a p'lease him do a' that I can ; 

1 and jealous of a' the young fel- 

O, dool on the day, I met wi' an' auld man : 

[y auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity, 
I'll do my endeavour io follow 
'11 cross him, and wrack him, 

And then his auld brass wi'.l l 



Hc'= 



P i;. ;i 



BURNS. 

THE BONNIE WEE THING. 

Bonnie wee thins?, cannie wee thin?. 
Lovely 



V.'lstfull-, I lock and languish, 
In that bonnie face of thine ; 

Lest my wee thing be na mine. 

Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty, 

In ae constellation shine ; 
To adore thee is my duty, 

Goddess o' this soul o' mine ! 



0, FOR ANE AND TWENTY TAM. 

Tune— "The Moudiwort." 

An' O, for ane and twenty, Tam ! 
An' hey, sweet ane and twenty, Tarn ! 

An' I saw ane and twenty, Tam. 

adhaud me down. 



And gar me lool 
But three short ye 

An' 0, for 



At kith or kin I need na spier, 
An' I saw ane and twenty, Tam, 
An' O, for ane, &c. 

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, 
Tho' I mysel hae plenty, Tam ; 



BESS AND HER SPINNING WHEEL. 



And haps me 11 el and warm at e'en ! 
I'll set me down and sing and spin, 
While laigh descends the simmer sun, 
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal— 
O leeze me en my spinning wheel. 

On ilka hand the burnies trot, 

The scented birk and hawthorn white, 

Alike to screen the birdie's nest, 

And little fishes' caller rest : 

The sun blinks kindly in the biel*, 

Where, blythe I turn my spinning wheel. 

On lofty aiks the cushats wail, 
And echo cons the dcolfu' tale: 
The lintwhites in the hazel braes, 
Delighted, rival itlier's lays: 



The craik amang the claver hay, 
The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley, 
The swallow jinking round my shiel, 

Wi' ana' to sell, and less to buy, 
Aboon distress, below envy, 
O wha wad leave this humble state, 
For a' the pride of a' the great 1 
Amid tbeir Hairing, idle toys, 
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys, 
Can they the peace and pleasure fee-', 
Of Bessy at her spinning wheel. 



COUNTRY LASSIE. 
;r when the hay was ruawn, 



And roses blaw in ilka bield ; 
Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel, 
Says, I'll be wed come o't what will ; 



Its J 


hae n 


3oers mo 


y a a 


ae, 


An 


d, lassi 








Then 




wee, and 








umi. 


Dutt, a ro 


l, r ,?' : 




Ther 


'a Joh 


ie o' the 


!>. = !. 


e-gien, 


Fu 




barn, fu 




byre; 


Tak this frae 




K:.ill 


hen, 


It' 


pUati 


beets the 


luver 


siire. 


For J 


ohnnie 


o' the Buskie-glen, 






re a sing 


eflie 




Helo 








md kye, 


He 


has nae luve to 


;■- -"'"•-■ 


. 



And weel I wat he lo'es me dear : 
Ae blink o' him 1 wad na gie 
For Buskie-glen and a' his gear. 

O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught, 

The canniest gate, the strife is sair ; 
But aye fu' han't is fechtin' best, 



And wilfu' folk maun hae their will ; 
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill. 



Thegowd and si 
Ve may be poor, I 
Light is the burd 



FAIR ELIZA. 



Turn again, thou fair Eliza, 
Ae kind blink before we part, 
ew on thy despairing lover ! 
Canst thou break his faithfu' h 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



Turn again, thou fair Eliza ; 
If lo love tby heart denies, 

IJnder friendship's kind disguise ! 



id gladly d 

l ilka throe 



Not the bee upon the b 

In the pride o' sinnj 

Not the little sportiDg 

Not the poet in the mo 
Fancy lightens on hi 

Kens the pleasure, feel 
That thy presence gi 



THE POSIE. 



Luve will v< 



i' a posie to my ain dear May. 
I will pu', the firstling o' the 
' the pink, the emblem o' my 



For she's 



withou 



my ain dear May, 

I'll pu' the budding rose when Phffibns peer 

For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonni 

The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanj 

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. 



The lily it 



and the 1 



t is fLir 



r lovely bosom I'll plac 
= for simplicity and unaffected 



:y which weel s 
;o my ain dear M 



And I'll Dla. 

by a' 

That to my 1 

And this v 



: e round wi' the silken band o' 
it in her breast, and I'll swear 
est draught o> life the band shall 
i be a posie to my ain dear May. 



THE BANKS 0' DOON. 

Ve banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ; 

Thou'll break my heart thou warbling bi 



SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. 



She's bow- 


hough'd 


she's he 


nshinn'd 


Ae limpi 


ilegah 


nd-breed shorter : 


She's twis 


ed right, 




sted left, 


To balan 




ilka qua 




She has a 1 








The twin 


o' that upon her 


houther ; 


Sio a wife, &c. 






Auld baudr 


ns by th 


e ingle si 


9, 


And wi' 


Ber loof 




-washin ; 


Sut Willie 


s wife is 






She digh 


s her gr 






Her walie 






creels. 


Her face 


aV 


the Logan water ; 



a wife as Willie had, 



BURNS POEMS. 



GLOOMY DECEMBER. 



jjing mild on the soft parting ho 
: feeling, O farewell forever, 
b. unmingled and agony pure. 



Shall ever be my dearie. 

Lassie, say thoa lo'es me : 
Or, if thou wilt na be my ; 

If it wiflna, canna be, ' 
Thou, for thine, may choose 



Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy Dec. 

Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow at 

For sad was the parting thou maks 

Parting wi' Nancy, Oh, ne'er to m 

EVAN BANKS* 

Slow spreads the gloom my soul desir 
The sun from India's shore retires ; 
To Evan banks, with lemp'rate ray, 
Home of my youth, it leads the day. 



SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE. 






:side, 



h the Clyde. 

rembling heard my pitr'-':ii2- s:jbi 



Lro.- 






e's-brokeri 








ay e'es 


^, Ik 












i routl 


o' gear, 






faae 


'"}'?>. 


v. ar::. 








letlhe bon 


lie lass 


gang. ' 






rlie 


ebeth 


"b:i:,J, 
'fickle 


in love, 










by kin 








lli't 


sa 




, fair ! 
by share, 






~u= 


i o'er meikle 


o gien thee 


m 


■r, 



irsued m 
with hear 









Ye lofty banks that Evan bound ! 
Ye lavish woods that wave around, 



Can all the wealth of In 



Swift from this 
And' fly to raeel 
Nor more may- 



is my sight ! 
me part, 



WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE. 



AFTON WATER. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy gree 

i Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song sa tl 

My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream. 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not h; 

Thou stock icne whose echo resounds thro' tt 
glen, 
wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorn 

Thou green-crested lapwing thy screamii 

urge you disturb not my slumbering fair. 

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbourin 

Far marked with courses of clear windin 

e daily I wander as noon rises high, 
locks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eji 

How pleasant thy banks and green valley b< 

Where wild in the woodlands the primrost 



where my Mr_ry rc=iu-- 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, 
uowy feel la 



Fiow gently, si 
Row gently, s 



t Afton, amoDg thy green 
et river, the theme of my 



FOR THE SAKE OF SOMEBODY. 



; I dax 



tell, 



BONNIE BELL. 

The smiling spring comes in rejoic 

And surly Winter grimly flies : 
Now crystal clear are the falling w 



Fresh o'er the mountains breaks ft. 


rth the 


The ev'ning'gilds the ocean's swell 

All creatures joy in the sun's returning 

And I rejoice in my bonnie BeR. 




The flowery Spring leads sunny Soma 

And yellow Autumn presses n-.nr, 
Then in his turn comes gloomy Winte 

'Till smiling Spring again appear. 
Thus seasons dancing, life advancing, 

Old Time ana Nature iheir changes 
But never ranging, still unchanging 

I adore my bonnie Bell. 


tell, 


THE GALLANT WEAVER 




Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, 





They zied m 


rin=-s and ribbons fi 


And I was fe 


ar'd my heart would 


And I gied 


it to the weaver. 



My daddie sign'd my tocher-band 
To gie the lad that has the land, 
But to my heart I'll add my hand, 



While birds rejoice in leafy bowers ; 
While bees delight in opening flowei 
While corn grows green in simmer si 



LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE. 

Louis, what reck I by thee, 

Or Geordie on his ocean ; 
Dyvour beggar louns to me, 

I reign in Jeanie's bosom. 



My heart is sair for somebody ; 

For the sake of somebody. 

Oh-hon! for somebody ! 

Oh-hey ! for somebody ! 
[ could range the world around, 
For the sake of somebody. 

Ye powers that smile on virtuoi;? 1 



Oh-hey! fi 



THE LOYELY LASS OF INVERNESS, 

The lovely lass o' Inverness, 

Nae joy nor pleasure can she see ; 
For e 'en and morn she cries, alas ! 



For then 



■> Drumossie day, 
my. father dear, 



Myfatl 
Their winding sheet the bloody clay, 



That 




bless M a worn 


ui's e'e 






thee, thou cruel lord, 


Ablu 


cy 


man I trow tho 


lbej 



Tune — " Finlayston House. " 

ite gave the word, the arrow sped, 
And pierced my darling's heart : 
id with him all the joys are fled 

j cruel hands the sapling drops, 
In dust dishonour'd laid : 
So fell the pride of all my hopes, 
My age's future shade. 

be mother linnet in the brake, 
Bewails her ravished young ; 
> I for my lost darliog"'s sake, 
Lament the live-day long, 
Death, oft I've fear'd thv 
Now fond I bare my breast, 
do thon kindly lay me low 
With him I love at rest: 



BURNS. -POEMS, 



O MAY, THY MORN, 

May, thy morn was r.e'er sae sweet 

As the mirk night o' December ; 
For sparkling was the rosy wine, 



And here's to them, that like ourse!, 

And here's to them that wish us weel, 
May a' that's gude watch o'er (hem ; 



How blest ye birds that 



The snn blinks blythe on yon town, 
And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr ; 

Bat my delight in yon town, 
And dearest bliss is Lucy fair. 

Without my love, not a' the charms 
O' paradise could yield me joy ; 

But gie me Lucy in my arms, 
And welcome Lapland's dreary slcy. 

My cave wad be a lover's bower, 
Tho' raging winter rent the air ; 

And she a lovely little flower. 

That I wad tent and shelter there. 



His setting beam ne' 
if angry fate has swor 



'or while life's dearest bloo 
Ae thought frae her shall 
nd she— as fairest is her ft 



ly Miss L. J.) died lately in 

-ist accomplished and most 

is worthy of this beautiful si 



A RED, RED ROcjL:. 

my love's like a red, red roso 8 
That's newly sprung in Jane, 

my love's like the melody 
That's sweetly play'd in tune. 

As fair art thou, my bonny lass, 

And I will love thee still my dear, 
'Till a' the seas gang dry. 

'Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun ; 

1 will love thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o' life shall run. 

And fare thee weel, my only love, 

And fare thee weel a while ! 
And I will come again my love, 



s I stood by yon roofless to 



The winds we 


reli 


a, t 


ae air was still, 


The stars tl 




iota 


ong the sky ; 




owl 




a the hill, 


And the dis 




-cho 


ng glens reply. 



The stream adown its hazelly path, 
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, 

Hasting to join the sweeping JN'ith, f 
Whase distant roaring swells and fa's ! 

The cauld bine north was streaming forti 

Athort the lift they start°and shift, ' 



n look had daunted m 
red posie — Liberty ! 



'ring dead to hear ; 



d stalwart ghaist appear'd. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



COPY OF A POETICAL ADDRESS 



MR WILLIAM TYTLER, 



Revered defender of beau 

Of Stuart a name once 

A name, which to love w 


eous Stuart, 


But now' 


as despised and neglected : 


Tho' sometl 


ing like mois 


ture conglobes 


^"Se 
'"""sign!' 
Still more 


dless wand' 


er may well c 


, if that wan 


i'rerwereroya 


My fathers 


that name 


have rever'd 


My father 
Those fathe 


have fallen 
rs would sp 


trn their 'dege 



Now life's chilly evening dim shades 

id ushers the long drearv night : 
Eutyou, like the star that athwart g 
sky, 
Your course to the latest is bright. 

My muse jilted me here, and turned ; 






That name should he scoffingly slight it 

Still in prayers for Ring George I most hi 
Hy join, 
The Queen and the rest of the gentry. 
Be they wise, be they foolish, is nuthin 

Their title's avow'd by the country. 

But why of that epocha make such a fuss, 



me to Edinburgh, and: 
ve the honour to be, 

Revered Sir, 
Your obliged and very humb! 



CALEDONIA. 
■« Caledonian Hunt's Deiigh 
i once a day, but old Tim 



(Who knows not that brave Calec 

From Tweed to the Orcades was hei 
To hunt, or to pasture, or do 
would : 

Her heavenly relations there fixed h 
And pledg'd her their godheads 



The pri< 






;ons. The scenery so finely describee 
n from nature. The poet is supposet 
msing by night on the banks of tne r 
len, and by the ruins of Lincluden-Abt 
ded in the twelfth century, in the reig; 
:olm IV. of whose present situation 
er may find some account in Penna, 
r in Scotland, or Gro=e's Amiuuitie- 



i song of Libs 
i of poetry c 



riumphantly 
« Whoe'er shall provoke thee th' encounter 
With tillage or pasture at times she woi'ld 
ir flocks by her green rustling- 



Here 






'till thitherward 



A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand :* 
Repeated, successive, for many long years, 
"bey darken 'd the air, anu they plunder's 
the land : 



BURN'S—POEMS. 



Their pounces were murder, : 



The fell Harpy-raven took wing from the 

The scourge of the seas, and the dread of 
the shore ; * 
The wild Scandinavian boar issued forth 



He learned to feai 



guin'd the Twf 
it Caledonian la 



is Chance, and old Time is the 



But brave Caledonia's the hvpothen 
Then ergo she'll match "them, 
them always, il 



THE FOLLOWING POEM 



If V 



w the . 



the Russian a..d the Turks ; 
Or if the Swede, before he halt, 
Would play anither Charles ibe Twalt ! 
If Denmark, ony body spako't ; 
Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't ; 
How cut-throat Prussian blades were hinsr 
How libbet Italy was singin ; 
If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss, 
Were sayin or takin ought amiss : 



If Warren Hastings' 



If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales, 
Wasthreshin still at hizzies' tails, 
Or if he was growin oughtlins douser, 

A' this and mair I never heard of; 
And, but for you, I might despair'dof. 
So gratefu', back your news I send you, 
And pray, a* guid things may attend jot 

EUisland, Monday Morning, 1790. 



X PASTJRAL POETRY. 



'Mang heaps o' clavcrs 
And och ! o'er aft thy joys hae starved, 
'Mid a' thy favours ! 

Say, Lassie, whv thv train amang. 
While loud the trump's heroic clang, 
And sock or buskin skelp alang 



it the drumlie Dutch wen 



* The Saxons. f The Danes, 

i Two famous battles, in which the 1 
or Norwegians were defeated. 
g The Highlanders of the Isles. 
|| This singular figure of poetry, taken frc 

tion of Pythagoras, the 17th of ~ 
ight-angled triangle, the square of the hypo- 



Even Sappho's flame, 
tus, wha matches 1 



; proposi- 



! But thee, Theocritus, wha mat 
, They're no herd's ballats, Mai 
Squire Pope but busks his skin 
O' heathen t; 
I pass by hnnders, nameless wi 
That ape thei 

In this braw age o' wit and let 



tht 



of ti 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

how deil Tarn c; 



a Scottish callan ! 
forrit, honest Allan ! 
behint the hallan, 



Thou paints auld nature to the uini 
Io thy sweet Caledonian lines ; 



In gowarjy glens thy 


burni 


b strays, 




bleach their 


Or trots by hazelly s 












"Where blackbirds jo 


cW 


lispkerd's lay 
>' day. 


Thy rural loves are r 




ssel; 


Iv ae bombast spates 












O' 






That charm that can 


thes 


rongest quell, 



THE BATTLE OF SHERLFF-MUIR, 

BETWEEN THE BIIKE OV AKGYLK AND 



■a ye here the fight to 6hun, 



To hear tl 

O ' clans frae woods, in tarta 
Wha glaum'd al kingdom; 

The red-coat lads wi' black , 
To meet them were na sla- 
They rush'd and push 'd, am 
And mony a bouk did fa', 
The great Argyle led on his 1 
I wat they glanced twenty m 
They hack'd and hash'd, i 

clash'd, 
And thro' they dash'd, 
smash'd, 
Till fey men died awa, mi 

But had you seen the philibe 

When in the teeth they dar'i 

When bayonets opposed the 

Wi' Highland wrath they ft 

Drew blades o' death, till ou 

They fled like frighted doo 



lile broadswords 



: saw myself, they did pursue 

The horsemen back to Forth, m 
tricl at Dumblane, in my ain sigh 

kDd straight to Stirling wing'd tb 
Jut, cursed lot ! the gates were B. 
Lnd mony a hunted poor red-coat 
For fear amaist did swarf, man. 

' My sister Kate came up the gate 

She swoor she saw some rebels rut 
i Dundee, 



: 



general had n: 



That day thei 
For fear by fo 


=s, that they should lose 


" They've lost some gallant gentlemen 

Amang the Highland clans, man; 
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain, 

Or fallen in nhiggish hands, man ; 
Now wad ye sing this double fight, 
Some fell for wrang, and some for righ 
But mony bade the world gude-night ; 
Then ye may tell, how pell and mell, 
By red claymores, and muskets' knell, 
Wi' dying yell, the lories fell, 
And whigs to hell did flee, man. "* 




SKETCH, 


NEW YEAR'S DAY. 



s day, Time winds the exhausted cl 
run the twelvemonths' length again 
e the old bald-pated fellow, 
h ardent eyes, complexion sallow, 



Will you (the Major's 
The happy tenants sua 
Coila's fair Rachel's c 
And blooming Keith's 



* This was written about the time our 
made his tour to the Highlands, 17S7. 

f This young lady was drawing a pi 
of Coila from the Vision, see page 191. 



B7 R>.S.— POEMS. 



Rest on— for what ! What do 
Or why regard the passing yea 



Wi 


:-.L,-r 


slit 


ave 


!.v 


-"■">■} 


bright, 


Or 


J., a 








,:i; ; 




Sin 


ethet 








r'dfi 


= t . 1 iV 




hispc 






all 




nds: 


Lei 

And 


J= IL> 


:7 


°se^ 


'h.: 


I.".-, 6 


mploy, 


Tho 










11., J 










liLil 


circle ro 






-lYi i 










pulse, 


i' 












se) 


Oth 












f regard 


Yourself, 


JOU 


,M: 


JO 


-r L . 


■ i -■■ 



EXTEMPORE, 



uncombed grizzly locks wild-starin; 
ad for thought profound and clear, un 



POETICAL INSCRIPTION, 

AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE, 

HERON— WRITTEN IN SUMMER 1795. 

Thou of an independent mind, 

With seul resolved, with soul resigned ; 






* Mr Si 
lersofaclub iaEdi 
;i Crochailan Fencibles. 



Prepared power's proudest frown to 
Who wilt not be, nor have a slave : 
Virtue alone who dost revere, 
Thy own reproach alone dost tear, 



THE DEATH OF MR RIDDEL. 

No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more 
Thou young-eyed Spring, thy charms I ci 



can ye please, ye flowers, with all your 
blow upon the sod that wraps my 



The Man of Worth, and has not left his 

Is in his ' narrow house' for ever darkly low. 

Thee, Spring, again with joy shall others 

greet ; 
Me, mem ry of my loss will only meet. 

MONODY 

A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. 

How cold is that bosom which folly once fired. 

How silent that tongue which the echoes oft 
How dull is that ear which to flattery to 



low doubly severer, Eliza, thy fate 
Thou diedst unwept, as thou 1 
loved. 



f Robert Riddel, Esq. of Friar's Carse, a 
very worthy character, and one to whom our 

bard thought himself under many obligations;, 



2-36 DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

We'll search through Ihe garden for each 
flower, 
We'll roam through the forest for each 



rash deed. 

We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure 
lay; 
Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre; 
There keen indignation shall dart on her pr 
VS 7 hich spurning contempt shall redeem fr 
his ire. 

EPITAPH. 



ANSWER TO A MANDATE 
IENT BY THE SURVEYOR OP THE V 

L'OWS, CARRIAGES, &C. TO EACH F 
J1F.R, ORDERING HIM TO SEND A SIG: 



My hand-afore, A a guid auld has bee 

My hand-a-hin'r a guid brown filly, 
Wha aft has borne me safe frae Kill! 
And your auld borough mony a time, 

My fur-a-hin,§ a guid, grey beast, 



The four' 



Highland Donald h ,-.;,, 



* The fore-horse on the left-hand, i 
plough. 

t The hindmost on the left-hand, ii 



auld wheel-barrow, mair for token, 
leg and baith the trams are broken ; 



I rule them, as I ought, discreetly, 
And often labour them completely, 
And aye on Sundays duly nightly, 
I on the questions tairge them tightly, 



isie, smirking, dear bought Bess ; 
ires the daddie in her face, 
h of ought ye like but grace, 
r, my bonny, sweet wee lady, 
ud enough for her already, 



By the L_ 



;e get them a' thegither 



And now, remember, Mr Aiken, 
Nae kind of licence out I'm takin'. 
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle, 
lire I sae dear pay for a saddle ; 
I've sturdy stumps, the Lord be thankit 
And a' my gates on foot I'll shank it. 



This list wi' 






ROBERT BURNS. 



in the glen sae bushy, O, 
1 the plain sae rushy, O, 

ig my Highland°lassie, 0. 



|| Gentle is used here in opposition to sim- 
ple, in the Scottish and old English sense of 
the word. Nae gentle dames. — No higa 



BURXS.— POEMS. 



But while my crimson 

I'll love my Highland 

Within the glen, & 




ats flow, 
0. 


Altho' thro' foreign cl 
1 know her heart will i 
For her bosom burns w 
My faithful Hishland 
Within the glen, &c 


ithh 


range, 
Sglc 


For her I'll dare the b 
J. ; .r her I'll trace a dis 

Aroundmy Highland 1 
Within the glen, &c 


;'iU 


0, 


She has my heart, she has my hand, 

TiD the mortal stroke shall lay me'loi 
I'm thine my Highland lassie, 0. 
Within the glen, &c. 


Farewell the glen sae h 
Farewell the plain sae r 
To other lands I now m 
To singmy Highland la 


ls hy, 0, 
ashy, U, 

USt gu, 


IMPROMPTU, 



Old Winter with his frosty beard, 
Thus once to Jove his prayer prefa 
" What have I done of all the year 



My 




-rless su 




Nig 






a-ar^ 


My 




nal mon 


U C'.j 


E.i 


spl 


eny En 


jlUh lit 


Now, Jove, for 


once be 


To 






ce all i 


Cm 




,andl 








.Maria 




'Hi; 


tbr 




fl will 


h,r 


£§ 




r.Autu 



ADDRESS TO A LADY. 

Oh wert thou in the cauld blasl, 
On yonder lea, on yonder lea, 

My plaidie to the angry airt, 

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee : 

Or did misfortune's bitter storms 
Aronnd thee blaw, around thee blav 



: I monarch o' the globe, 
thee to reign, with thee to re: 

be my queen, wad be my qae< 
TO A YOUNG LADY, 



Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair, 

That fate may in her fairest page, 
With every kindliest, best presage 

With native worth, and spotless fame, 
And wakeful caution, still aware 
Of ill— but chief, man's felon snare j 
All blameless joys on earth we find, 

So prays thy faithful iriend, the bard. 



Nor asks if they bring aught to hope or fear. 



:ome, thou child of pc 
with thee I'll share 



On refusing to dine with him, after havi 
been promised 'the first of company, and l 
first of cookery, 17th December, 1795. 

No more of your guests, be they titled or nc 

Who is proof to ihy personal converse a 

Is proof to all other temptation. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



TO MR S— E, 



'IV ere urnik for Ur.t of I 

A gift that e'eu for S- 

Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfi 



THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS. 
Tune—" Push about the Jorum." 
-dprtf, 1795. 
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat ? 



The 



I volumes 



Maun British wrangs be righted 
" Falderall, & 

The kettle o' the kirk and state, 



Eutdi 



: , ;....; 



Shall fu 



the kettle bought, 
are to spoil it ; 

■■' Fall' derail, &c 

The wretch that wad a tyrant own, 
And the wretch, his true- torn brotlie 

Who would set the mob aboon the thro 
May they be damn'd together! 

Who will not sing « God save the king 
Shall hang as high's the steeple ; 

]iut, while we sing '• God save the kin, 



Ifwi'thehiz 



iosee the uew come lade.-, groaning, 
Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin 

To thee and thine ; 

The hail design. " "° 

POSTSCRIPT. 

Ye've heard this while how I've been li 
And by fell death was nearly nickel: 
Grim loon ! he gat me by the fecket, 



Then fareweel folly, hide and hair o't, 
For ance and ay e. 



The friend whom wild from wisdom's w 
The fumes of wine infuriate send : 

' "'bo but deplores that hapless friend i 

was th' insensate frenzied pari, 

•All.-, should I such scenes ouline! 
is so abhorrent to my heart ! 

POEM ON LIFE, 



Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan 
Watches like baudrons by a rattan, 
Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on 
Wi' felon ire; 

Ah Nick ! ah Nick, it is na fair, 

Bright wines°and bonnie lasses rare, 
To put us daft ; 

Syne weave unseen thy spider's snare 
O hell's damn'd waft. 

Poor man, the fiie, aft bizzes by, 
And aft as chance he comes thee nigh, 
Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi' joy, 



Soon hesls o'er gowdie 1 in he gangs. 

Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs 

And murdering wrestle, 

as dangling in the wind he hangs 
A gibbet's tassel. 

But lest you think I am uncivil, 

To plague you with this draunting drivel, 



ADDRESS TO THE TOOTH-ACHE. 
Ihat shoots my tortur'd gums alang ; 
Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang, 

When fevers burn, or ague freezes, 

Our neighbaur's svmpalby may ease us, 
Wi' pitying moan; 

But thee — thou hell o' a' diseases, 

Aye mocks our groan 

Adown my beard the sla-ers trickle ; 

As round the fire the giglets keckle, 



Tosl 



e loup ; 



■POEMS. 

And ranked plagues their nuui 
Thou, Tooth-ache, surely bea 

O thou grim mischief-making 
That gars the notes o' discord 
'Till daft mankind aft dance a 

In gor 
Giea' thefaeso' Scot!; 



rs the rose-bud steepi 
CHORUS. 




But her by thee is slighted : 
And thou art all delighted. 

If thou hast met this fair one ; 

If every other fair one, 

But her thou hast deserted, 
And thou art broken hearted- 
O that 's, &c. 



Nought but griefs with me r 

ipare my luve, ye winds that 1 
Flashy sleets and beating rai 

ipare my luve, thou feathery s 
Drifting o'er the frozen plaii 



Sweetly blylhe his waukening bf 

le will think on her he loves, 
Fondly he'll repeat her name; 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



SONG. 

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's for 
The frost of hermit age might wa 
My Peggy's worth, my JYgiry's i 
Might charm the hrst of human k 
I love my Peggy's 



,„lj lair 



Her native gl 

But I adore my Peggy's 1 

The lily's hue, the rose's 



WRITTEN IN A WRAPPER, 
INCLOSING A LETTKR TO CAPTAIN GROSE, 
ANTIQUARIAN. 

Tun'.—" Sir John Maleoin. " 



Ifh< 



Igo, a 






Is he South, or is he North ? 

Igo, and ago, 
Or drowned in the river Forth ? 

Iraui, coram, dago. 

Is he slain by Highland bodies ? 

Igo, and ago, 
And eaten like a wether haggis ? 



But pleas 
Which w 



ROBERT GRAHAM, Esq, OF FINTRY. 



I call no goddess to inspire my st 
A fabled Muse may suit a bard tl 
Friend of my life ! my ardent sp 
A.nd all the tribute of my heart r 
For boons accorded, goodness evi 
The gift still dearer as the giver , 



a villain's years 



EPITAPH ON A FRIEND. 



A GRACE BEFORE DINNER. 



And if it please thee, heavenly guide 
May never worse be sent ; 



TO MY DEAR AND MUCH HONOUR!- D 

MRS DUNLOP, OF DUNLOP. 

ON SENSIBILITY. 

ensibilily how charming, 
Thou, my friend, canst truly tell; 

Thou hast also known too' weUT 

airest flower, behold the lily, 



BURNS POEMS. 



CORRESPONDENCE 



MR GEORGE THOMSON. 



CORRESPONDENCE, &c. 



No. I. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURKS. 



Inielj iudecer.t. Even these shall all be exa- 
- ined by Mr Burns, and if he is of < pinion 
-* .ny of therr — : 



lat any of them are deserving of ll 
ich cases, no divorce shall take pit 

Edinburgh, Septemter, 1792. ! ta fc^ ta'aSS^TSK!?^^ 

e most favourite of our nation- i G. THOMSON 
lodies for publication. We have engaged 
I, the most agreeable composer living, to 



both public and privat, 

poetry improved, wherevt 
of the music ; and that 
stances, is allowed by e 



No. II. 
MR EURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



;o loose and iudeli- Only, 



task to the author of The Cotter's Sati 
Night; and, for the honour of Caledon , _ 



muse, 'will you, a? I am in'--*- 
you in 



e hind- 



yot 



inferior to none of 

thu = .a.-tic attachment to the poetry 

miaic of old Caledonia, and since you re- 

istan'ce— will jou let me have the list of 

tea vou intend for them, thTtlma/h^ve an 
mthat 



you shall'pleaseto aemend for it. Profit is 
quite a secondary consideration with us, and 
we are resolved to spare neither pains nor ex- 
pense on the publication. Tell me frankly 
then, whether you will devote your leisure 



, at your pleasure, for your own jl li,- ;; - 
Apropos, if you are for English verses, 
is, on my part, an end of the matter, 
her in the simplicity of the ballad, or the 
; of the song, I can only hope to pleas-- 
niy-elt in being i.l.utted a lea=t a .-prinki :.l of 

rly'lhe works" of Scotsmen, t"/t S have P me'ritl 
e certainly very eligible. • Tweedside ;' 'Ah ! 
e pcor Shepherd's mournful fa ' 



d I now 



•■ .- cu " 



songs in theii 
any of the st, 



'To Fanny 
. could I impart,' &c. usually set to • The 

t has already appeared, and wonld 
doubly disgrace a collection thai wiT have tha 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



your undertaking, to talk of money, w; 
fee, hire, &c. would be downright prostiti 
of soul ! A proof of each of the songs tl 



speed the wark !" 

I am, Sir, your very humble servant, 
R. BURNS. 



No. III. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



Edinburgh, 131A October, 17£ 



taking. We have now no doubt of being able 
to produce a collection highly deserving of 
public attention, in all respects. 

I agree with you in thinking English verses, 

VGrses are necessary ; because the English be- 
ef Scotland ; but if you mean that i 
verses, except those by Scottish authors, ought 
to be admitted, I am half inclined to diner 
from you. I should consider it unpardonable 
to sacriiice one good song in the Scottish di- 
alect to make room for English verses ; but 



the 



not be the 


very bigotry 


of literary p 




, merely be 




born south o 


f the Tweec 


? Our sweet 


Nannie 0, ' 




collection is 


the poorest stuffthat All 


n Ramsay eve 


beginning, '1 


M..1- =.)!,!•■• 




health,' aus 


vers so finely to Dr Percy' 


fulscng, -ONant 










air. Howe 






confine you 


o English v 


»rses : you sh 


be allowed a 


sprinkling 


f f t our a ^ UT m 


as you eleg 


antly expre 






enily wait : 




thing only 1 


beg, which 










be decent. 


Let her nc 




would blush 




or wound tba 


iug delicacy 


which for 




dowry of our 


daughters. 


I do not con 


soug to be t 


le most proper vehicle t 


and brillian 




simplicity, 1 


should be its 


prominent 





if our songs, the writers have confounded 
limplicity with coarseness and vulgarity ; 
ilthough, between the one and the other, as 



No. IV. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



s tell you, that you a 



your 


criticism 


are 


just; the songs you 


spec 


<y 








1 but one the faults 






in them 




t who shall mend th 










! - 




,1 w 




make 




Ft 








' The Lea-rig 


' 1 




'O 


'-." 








d, after all, I coul 












than the following, 


Uii. 




Heav 


ea knows 


, is 


poor enough. 






Whe 


n o'er the hill the eastern star, 






Te 


Is bught 




me is near, my jo ; 












furrow 'd field, 






Return sae 


OH 


and weary ; 






Dow 


by the b 


urn 


where scented birks 







If through 
My ain 1 

And I w 



be e°erie C 



In the copy transmitted to Mr Thomson, 
id of wild, was inserted wet. But in one 
.e manuscripts, probably written after- 
i, wet was changed into wild, evidently 
eat improvement. The lovers might 
on the lea-rig, " although the night were 

wind blew, the sky loured, and the thunder 

'"--'- meeting still more interesting. But if 



omplacency— Tibullus, and 
nd, has conceived a happier 
on a wet night. Probably 



BLRNS CORRESPONDENCE. 



am of opinion (bin as I told you before, 

leject, as you please) thai my ballad of 'Nan 
O' might perhaps do for one set of verses to 



\e 


»es 


I have 1 


3 ng ago 


ruadec 


sh 




^dTaVe'n 




l,, : .;= 


ed 




in your adoption 












Mr,-, 


ad 


,pti 




I, hall 


....-;. 








copj"^ 




na 


me 




is horridly pr 



ind yon hill where Lugar flov 



defaced the legend o 
i so faithfully inscribe 
outh simplicity was, as 



HII ye go to the Indies, my HI 

m ye go the Indies;' nr. Via, 



And s.-.e mm the Heavens forget me, 
When I forget my vow. 

O plight me your faith, my Marv, 
And plight me your lily-while hand : 

plight n;e your faith, my Mary, 
before 1 leave Scotia's strand. 

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary, 



209.) 



Saturday Morning. 
ls I ind I have still an hour to spare thi: 
rning before my conveyance goes away, ! 
- "vmie O' at length. (See p 



wish is, not to stand aloof, the uncomplying 
ot of opiniatrete, but cordially to join issue 
h jou in the furtherance of the work. 



MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

November 8th, 1792. 
rou mean, my dear sir, that all the songg 



ksonihe'Ewebughts, Mari 






of going tc 



,ri, ;.ea 



veil of a dear girl. It is quil 



iilv of adapting syllables to tfa 
*-hat I would call the feature 
?, that cramp the poet, and la 



and has nothing of the merit of 'Ewe h 
but il will till up this page. You mu 
that all my earlier love-songs were the 


breath - 


Burns had in his mind the verse o 
iurally enough conjoined. 

"When my ploughman comes hame a 
He's often wet and weary ; 

Cast off the wet, put on the dry, 
And gae to bed my deary. " 


an old 



, expect. _ The 

iSi£S 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



The warld's wrack we 
The wrastle and the cai 
Wi' her I'll blylhely b 
And think my lot divin 



ing Ayrshire girl, Miss , as she passed 

through this place to England, will suit your 
taste better than the Collier Lassie, fall on and 



Return again, fair Les] 
Return to Caledonie 

That we may brag vre 1 
There's uane again s. 



e hitherto deferred tl 



ire all put into your hands, as clay into 
ands of the potter, to make one vessel tc 
it, and another to dishonour. Farewell, 



No. VI. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

HIGHLAND MARY. 

Tune—" Katherine Ogie.' 

fe banks, and braes, and streams around 

The castle o' Montgomery, 
Jreen be your woods, and fair your flowers 

Your waters never drumlie! 
["here simmer first unfauld her robes. 

And ther, 



st fan 



seel 



O ' my sweet Highland Mary. 

low sweetly bloom 'd the gay, green bir 
How rich the hawthorn's blossom ; 

U underneath the fragrant shade, 
I clasp 'd her to my bosom ! 

'or dear to me as light and life, 
Was my sweet Highland Mary. 

Yi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, 



That wraps my Highland Mary 

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, 
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ; 



Shall live my Highland Mary. 

mydeabsik, Hth November, 1792. 

I agree with you, that the song, • Katherine 

Ogie,* is very poor stuff, and unworthy, alto- 
recurring so often in the rhyme, spoils every 
attempt at introducing sentiment into the piece. 
The foregoing song pleases myself; I think 



o an air, which would insure celebrity. Per- 
laps after all, 'tis the still glowing prejudice 
f my heart, that throws a borrowed lustre 

I have partly taken your idea of < Auld Rob 
lorris.' I have adopted the two first verses, 
rid am going on with the song on a new plan, 
fhich promises pretty well. I take up one or 
notber, just as the bee of the moment buzzes 
o my bonnet lug ; ' ' 



, &c, 









BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 



No. VII. 
.IR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 

I SIR, Edinburgh, Nov. 1792. 

as just going to write to you, that on meet- 



1*11 think my lot d 



bysf 



e faults 



ong for the 'Lea-Rig, ' 



chief object is to discover and be delishted with 
•' 'leauties of the piece. If I sit down to 

serve careless lines, tne 're-perusal of which 
might lead you to improve them. The wren 
will often see what has been overlooked by the 



Flowers of English Son?, we'll adapted to 
those melodies, which in England, at leas!, will 

But you will' observe, my pilars? that evlr'y I 

by Scottish poets ; and that those i 

writers shall follow as additional songs, for 

What you say of the «Ewe-bnghts' is just ; I 



I remain yours, faithfully, &c. 

P. S. Your verses upon • Highland Mary' 
ire just come to hand ; they breathe the ge- 
uine spirit of poetry, and, like the music, 

in air, with the delicate harmony of Pleyel 
iuperadded, might form a treat worthy of 

leard the sad story of your Mary : you always 



this I do not urge, because the song is of suffi- 
cient length, though those inferior stanzas be 
omitted, as they will be by the singer of taste. 
You must not think 1 expect all the songs to b« 



No. VIIL 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Dumfries, 1st December, 1792. 

Your alterations of my 'Nannie O' are perfectly 
-•~ v ". So are those of ' My wife's a wanton 
thing.' Your alteration of the second 



pous or mere burlesque verse 
imbly suggest, " And ne'er 



I agree with you, is not so good a word 



ing,' I think the first eight lin 
but I do not admire the other 
four of them are bare repetit 
rses. I have been trying to s 
it could make nothing bette 
ng ; do you mend it, or as 


- . ,t. /,- 
ons of the 
pinastan- 

I'orick did 
your own 


-■■■.-. ".. . - ■ 
three or four instances by Allan Ramsay; but 
I cannot help it. In short, that species of 
stanza is the raost difficult that I have ever 
tried. 

The 'Lea.ris,' is as follows. (Where the 


Mybonnie blythesome wee th 


* Mr Thomson has decided on ' Ne'er mads 



le hunter lo'es 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



n interrupted. Yours, &c 



No. IX. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

There's auld Rob Morris that wons in y< 

glen. 
He's the king o' guid fellows and wale o' au 

He has gow'd in his cofTers, he has owsen ai 



t Oh! she's an 

laird, 
1 my daddie has 1 

yard; 



dead. 
The day conn 
The night cot 
And I sigh a 



DUNCAN GRAY. 

Duncan Gray cam here to woo, 

On blylhe yule night v. hen v, e v.. r 
Ha, ha, the wooing o't, 
" i-: ; .e cuoat her head fu' high, 



I, like a 




il 




hi;:''.!..- i 








tor 


Ha 


ha, &c. 




t comes 


et doctor 


If 11 


Ha 


ha, &c. 







iind Oh, hereen they speak sic things 


darling and mine. 


Ha, ha, &c. 


ning, the fairest in 


Duncan was a lad o' grace, 




Ha, ha, &c. 


ing- amang the new 


Maggie's was a piteous case, 




Ha, ha, &c. 


as the lambs on (he 


Duncan could na be her death, 






the light to my e'e. 


Now they're crouse and can'v haiih. 






ress, auld Robin's a 






ilh December, 




The foregoing I submit, my dear sir 






rope to come speed, 




that will soon be my 


Gray is that kind of light-horse°gallc 





No. X. 




MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON, 




SONG. 




Tune— 


"I had a 


horse." 


poortilh euuld 
Yelpoortith a' I 


md resiles 
eace betw 
could forg 
for my Je 


s love, 
en ye; 


why should fa 
Life's dearest 

Or why sae swee 
Depend on fort 


"Jdffi 


ire have, 


+ A well-know 


r rock in 


he frith of Clyde. 



t This has 

icentious ballad of Duncan Gray, but the first 
ineand part of the third. The rest is wholly 




• , ~\/*k' 



k 






1 



BURNS. 


— CORRESPONDENCE. 


his warld's wealth when I think oo, 
It's pride and a' the lave o't: 

ie, fie, o« silly coward man, 
That he should be the slave o't. 




No. XI. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 


er een sae bonnie bine betray, 
How she repays my passion ; 
ut prudence is her o'erword aye, 

O why, &c 




Edinburgh, Jiaiuanj, 20th, 17S 

You make me happy, my dear sir, and t 
sands will be happy to see the charming s 



to you, f 



nay you 



iofCaled 



GALLA WATER. 



That wander thro' 

But Yarrow braes, n 

Can match the lad 



And tho' I hae na meikle tocher ; 
Yet rich in kindness, truest love, 
We'll tent our flocks by Galla Wat. 



Many returns of tl) 
sir. How cctnes on 

I should like to know 
each tune, besides th 
In short, I would wi 



delight them, and to honour yourself. 

The four last songs with which jou fawn-ed 
me, for • Auld Rob Morris, Duncan Gray, 
Galla Water,' and • Cauld Kail,' are admira- 
ble. Duncan is indeed a lad of grace, and his 
humour will endear him to every body. 

The distracted lover in ' Auld Rob, ' and the 



ViV " 



« Galla Wat 



an excellent contrast ; they speak from get 
feeling, and powerfully touch the heart. 

The number of songs which I had origi 
in view was limited, but I now resolve t 

ing ; leaving none behind but meie glean 
to which the publishers of omnega&erun 

collection from which nothing could be t 



ie late Mr Tytler of Woodhouselee, I be- 
, knew more of this than any body, for he 
d to the pursuits of an antiquary, a taste 

possessing an enthusiasm for music beyond 
of his contemporaries. He was quite 
ed with this plan of mine, for I may say, 
s been solely managed by me, and we had 



be gratifying. Pray, will you send me any 
information of this sort, as well with regard to 

To all the favourite songs of the plaintive or 

companimente, &c. of°Pleyel. * To 'Sose^f 



with my dear, and much-v 



and a tuneful v 
the words, renc 


"po'se'a'ddf 


proper delivery of 
erfect. Neverthe- 


ringing, or forli 


strumenial 


erformance, when 


there happens to 
ploy our right 


be no singe 
rusty friend 
, which he 


Mr Clarke to set 
issures me he will 


do, con amore, 


trY.V.'!',!' 


:*53s5 



262 DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 


will not attempt to find more than one set of 


larly ' The Sow's tail to Geordie,' as an air, 




with other words, might be well worth a place 


That eccentric bard Peter Pindar, has start- 




ed I know not how many difficulties, about 


If it were possible to procure songs of merit, 




it would be proper to have one set of Scots 




words to every air, and that the set of words 




to which the notes ought to be set. There is 




a naivete, a pastoral simplicity, in a slight in- 


v: £- ,t from him, being for the fine air ' Lord 


termixture of Scots words and phraseolo2Y, 


Gregory. ' The Scots verses printed with that 


which is more in unison (at least to my taste, 




aod I will add, to every genuine Caledonian 


called, ' The lass of Lochroyan,' which I do 


taste), with the simple pathos, or rustic 



POSTSCRIPT. 

FROM THE HON. A. ERSKINE. 

Mr Thomson has been so obliging as to gi 
me a perusal of your songs. «Higl 



spak „ 



b yon 



AXDREW ERSE.IXE. 



No. XII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



Dr Beattie' 
On my part, I m 
to the Doctor's es 
anecdotes, &c. c 
late Mr Tytler's i 



gaming my stock of 

•s C Iha 6 ve"fy'me, 




LORD GREGORY. 

mirk is this midnight hour, 



Ho .v aften didst thou pledje and vuw, 

Thou wad for aye be mine ; 
And my fond heart itsel sae true, 

It ne'er mistrusted thine. 

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory, 

And flinty is thy breast; 
Thou dart of Heave:., that flashes! bv, 

wilt thou give me rest! 

Ye mustering thunders from above, 

Your wil'ing victim see! 
But spare and pardon my fause love, 
His wrangs to heaven and me !* 

* The song of Dr Walcott on the sat 
ject is as follows : 

Ah ope. Lord Gregory, thy door, 
And lightnings cleave the skits. 

If 7l,^ri'.o'!Vl^Vd.J ""cV delight. 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 



My most respectful compliments t< 

postscript in jour last. He shall h 
me and his MSS. soon. 



No. XIII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

20th March, 1793. 
MARY MORISON. 
Tune— " Bide ye yet." 



A weary slave frae sun to su 

Could 1 the rich reward secure 

The lovely .Mary Morison. 



« Ye are na Mary Morison. " 
O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, 

Or canst thou break that heart'of his, 
Whase onlj faut is loving thee? 

If love for love thou wilt na gie, 
At least be pity to me shown ; 



The thought o' Mary Mori 



The song prefixed is one of my ju 
works. I leave it in your hands. 1 d 
think it very remarkable, either fcr its m 
or demerits. It is impossible (at least I 
so in my stinted powers) to be always ori; 
entertaining, and witty. 

What is become of the list, &c. of jours 
'hyoubyaj 



ooked o 



self a 



Think of the ring by yonder 



t doing justice to Dr Walcott to 
his song is the original. Mr : 
ked it, and immediately wrol 
he same subject, which is d 
Id Scottish ballad of uncertain o 



MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

March, 1793. 

WANDERING WILLIE. 

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, 
Now tired with wandering, ha"udavva hame, 

And tell me thou bring'sl me my Willie the 

Loud blew the cauld Winter winds at our part- 
ing! 
It was nae the blast brought the tear in my 

The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. 
Ye hurricanes rest in the cave o* your slum- 
O how you 



Av ai 



i jel 



w gently je 



Ent if he's forgotten his faithfullest Nan 



whether the^ above, or the old "Through il 

No. XV. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, Oil! 

WITH AZ.TEBATIOXS. 

Oh open the doo 

Oh, oper. the i 

Tho' thou hast 1 



ne, Oh.* 



Oh, c 



Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, 
But caulder thy love for me, Oh : 

The frost that freezes the life at my heart 
Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh. 



3 friends, false love, farewell ! for 
1 ne'er trouble them Dor tbee, Oh. 



DIAMOND CAEINET LIBRARY. 



She has open'd the door, she has open'd it 


productions of your muse : your Lord Gregory, 


wide, 




She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh : 


Peter's, beautiful as his is ! Your • Here Awa 


My true love! she cried, and sank down by his 


WiUie' must undergo some alterations to suit 


the air. Mr Erskine and I have been conning 


Never to' rise again, Oh. 






make them a fit match.* 


I do not know whether this song be really 




mended. 


* WANDERING WILLIE. 








AS ALTERED BY MB ERSKINE AND 


No. XVI. 


MP. THOMSON. 


MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 


Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, 


JESSIE. 


Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame ; 
Come to my bosom my ain only dearie, 


Tune—" Bonnie Dundee. " 


Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the 


True hearted was he, the sad swain o' the 


Winter-winds blew loud andcauld at our part- 


And fair are 'the maids on the banks o' the 
Ayr, 
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding 


Fears 'for my Willie brought tears in my 


Welcome now simmer, and welcome my 


Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair ; 


Willie, 
As simmer to nature, so Willie to me 


To equal young Jessie, seek Scotland all over; 




To equal young Jessie, you seek it in vain, 
Cracc, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover, 


Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slum- 


And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. 


How your dread howling a lover alarms ! 


O fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning, 
And sweet is the lily at evening close ; 


Blow soft, ye breezes ! roll swiftly ye billows ! 
i;nd waft my dear laddie ance mair to my 


Bat in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie, 


Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. 


But oh, if he's faithless and minds na his 






Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law : 
And still lo her charms she alone is a stranger, 


Flow still between us, thou dark-heaving 


Her modest demeanor's the jewel of a'. 


May I never see it, may I never trow it, 




While, dying, I think that my Willie's roj 






No. XVIL 


Our poet, with his usual judgment, adopted 


MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 


tome of these alterations, and rejected others. 
The last edition is as follows :— 


Edinburgh, 2d April, 1793. 


Here'awa, there awa, wandering Willie, 



ignise the title you give yourself, Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame ; 
if indolent correspondents;" but i Come to my bosom my ain only dearie, 



I now send you my list of the songs, which 
believe will be found nearly complete. I 
lave put down the first lines ; of all the English 



•s for my Willie brought tears i 



;r to nature, my Willie to m 



Pleyel has la 


ely sent m 


ongs, with hi 
ments added to 


symphoni 
hem. I w 


hat I might ser 


ve up some 



such a de 
euts: they 


'' VaTvery mu 


ch pleased v 



But oh, if he's 

Nannie, 

J Flow still betw( 

: But, dying, bel 

I Several of th« 



faithless, an 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 



part of our work, that he has 
assistance, and has already wr 
for it, which, by his own de: 



olunleered his 
;en four songs 
e, I send foi 



No. XVIII. 
MR BURNS TO WR THOMSON. 



••The Mill, Mill 0." 
r's deadly blast was blaw 



I thought upon the 1 

I thought upon m; 

I thought upon the v 



O ! happy, happy may he be, 
That's dearest to thy bosom : 

My purse is light, I've far to gang, 
And fain wad be thy lodger ; 

I've served my king and country lang, 
Take pity on a sodger. 



only applicable to a placid stale of tl 



ing but the second line and par 
. The superior excellence of this 1 
a will, it is hoped, justify the 



Forget him shall I never : 
Our humble cut, and hamely fare, 

Ye freely shall partake it, 
That gallant badsre, the dear cockade, 

Ye're welcome for the sake o't • 



yon sun and sky- 
i thus may still 



ilin plenish'd fairly ; 



MEG O' THE MILL. 



The Miller 


was strappin', the 


Miller was 


A heart like a lord and 
The laird was a Widdi 
She's left the guid fell 


a hue like 


a lady ; 
e't knurl : 
the churl. 


The Miller h 


9 hecht h 


r a heart 


eal and lov- 


The Laird' i 


id addre 


s her wi> 


matter man- 


A fine pacing 


? horsew 


' a clear chained bridle, 



t, gie me my love, and a fig for the v, arid. 

No. XIX. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

rih April, 1793. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRAE Y. 



of composing for- jour publication has added lo 

meat to ballads! your book, &c. ballad-making 

fot°ifi^a a «on°TJ ,e UndJ Toby's ^sTi'U e'en 
canter it away till I come to the limit of my 
race, (God grant that I may take the right 
side of the winning post !) and then ch. eriully 
looking back on the honest folks with whom I 
have been happy, I shall say, or sing, ' Sae 



o 


thevo 


ce of Co.la* sh 








you a'!' 5 








or a few pre 


b 


ve occurred 


at random o 




rhe firs 


line 
dse 


s of 'The last 
veral other li 



tiful: b 



y op.moi 



shade of Ramsav ! the song is unworthy of 
the divine air. I shall try to make, or mend. 
'For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove,' is a 
charming song ; but ' Logan burn and Logan 
braes,' are sweetly susceptible of rural ima- 
gery : I'll try that likewise, and if I nice- d, 
the other song may class among the English 
ones. I remember the two last lines of a 
verse in some of the old songs of ' Logan 
Water,' (for I know a good many different 
ones) which I think pretty : 



"Now 









lelli .V.! 



y Pute, 



This is surely far unworthy of Romsay, or 
your book. My song, ' Rigs of Barley,' lo 
the same tune, does not altogether please me, 
but if I can mend it, and thresh a few loose 
sentiments out of it, I will submit it to your 
consideration. « The Lass o' Patie's Mill ' is 



friend, Mr Erskim 



will take into hi 
ir J. Sinclair's i 
claims, one, I thi 
d the other from j 



ilical 



tie with the then Eal 
and one forenoon, rid 



ng at Loudon Cas- 
her to Earl John: 



ering behind, he composed the first sketch of it, 
which he produced at dinner. 

' One day I heard Mary say,' is a fine song- ; 
but for consistency's sake, alter the name 
• Adonis.' Was there e^ei such banns pub- 
lished, as a purpose of marriage between 'Ado- 
nis and Mary?' I agree with you that my 
song, • There's nought but care on every hand, ' 
is much superior to • Poortith cauld.' The 
original song « The mill, mill O, ' though ex- 

sible ; 'still I like the title, and think'a Scottish 



" And sweetly the nightingale sung from the 

In the first place, the nightingale sings in a 

second place, there never was a nightingale 
seen or beard on the banks of the Dee, or on 
the banks of any other river in Scotland. 



fiat. If I ct 






's Museum, 



Tullochgorum, Lumps o' puddin, Tibl 







, are v 


ell w 


rthy of 


prestr- 




There i 


alsoo 






song of 




he Muse 








known 


of t 










until 1 














ral 


ed ' Cra 




nWoo 


d;' anc 


in the 


on 


jf Mr CI 


ail--, 


b one 


f our s 


,v eel est 



in your list, though they a: 
< Shepherds I have lost my 



of «The Chevalier's Lament 
alludes) worthy of the first 



BURNS. — CORRESPONDENCE. 

all pretty, bul his 



3i.lv thing ill which it is in my 
bensible. You know I ought i 
I thing of my own trade. Of pathos, 






No. XX. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 

Edinburgh, April, 1793. 
t rejoice to find, my dear sir, that ballad- 

!iope you will amble it away for many a year 



always equally happy in his pieces ; still I can- 
not approve of taking such liberties with an 



is Mr W. 
I came o'er 

piecs of hi 


proposes doing wit 
the Moor.' Let ape 
idea of another, a 


lute for eve 
bv Heaven 


, in the dark and 
'twould be sacril 






No. XXL 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



>ek, and a new lock, and a 
lot, by this, objec 



c' Pa ie\. M 1,' must be left out 
will be nothing worse for it. I am 

are bonnie.' Perhaps i'/ might v. 
stanza and be the tetter fur i . ■ i 
in Aberdeen' you must leave will 



* >'< 



ir, on the lady whom I attempted to celebrate 
i the verses, ' Poortith cauld and restless 
.ove. ' At any rate, my other song, ■ Green 
row the rashes,* will never suit. That song 
i current in Scotland under the old title, and 
) the merry old tune of that name ; which of 

ourse would mar the prog i fours . iu 

elebrity. Your book r-=" "" 



= "■•■?= 



fori 



eep your judginen 



.n the : 






o suit • Bonnie Dundee, ' I send you 

ilad to the ' Mill, mill O. 'i 

last time I came o'er the Moor,' I 

Ramsays be the - ■. " ', '■■ 



•'Yestreen I got a pint of wine, 

A place where body saw ua : 

Yestreen lav on this breast of mine, 

The gowden locks of Anna." 

It is highly characteristic of our Bard, 1 

wiih the air, to which he proposes it should 
allied. 
* The original letter from Mr Thomson ci 

and on the manner of adapting the words 

The subsequent letter of Mr Burns refers to 
*eral of these observations, 
f The reader has already seen that Burns 



:e them silly. Do you k: 



not finally adopt all of Mr E 



oiild perhap 
ire for whici 
mple; you woub 



send you likewi 

which I had taken down from 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

Johnson's Museum. * I eccentricily, perhaps, depends a great pari of 



No. XXII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
April, 1793. 



veil thou 



•earn that - 






Condem 




a hopeless 


ha 


And s 




! Iai.-u:.-k ; 




To feel a 








Yetd 


Lre not speak my angu 


sh. 


The wre 


ch of love 


, unseen, un 




I fain 








The bur 


ting sigh, 






Betray 


the hope 






I know 






Thou 


wilt nor c 












Forp 


ty'ssake 






Themu 


ic of thy t 


ongue I heai 












I -awtl 


ne eyes y 


t nothing fe 


"•'« 



be of service to the work is my first wish. As 
I have often told you, I do not in a single in- 

you— whatever Mr Ple'yel does, let him hofal- 
ter one iota of the original Scottish airs ; I 
mean, in the song department ; but let our 
national music preserve its native features. 
They are, 1 own, ir,-qu-iuly wild and irreduc- 



No. XXIII. 

MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 26th April, 1793. 
I heartily thank you, my dear sir, for your last 
two letters, and ihe songs which accompanied 

tertained by your observations ; and the frank- 
to me highly agreeable. It is very possible I 
not have the true idea of simplicity in 
losition. I confess there are several songs 



consider simplicity, rightly understood, as a 
most e^sentii 1 quality in composition, and the 

gladly appropriate vour most interesting new 
ballad • When wild war's deadly blast,' &c. 
to the 'Mill, mill, O, ' as well as the other 



of the songs. That would be absurd indeed! 
With the airs which he introduces into the 

he pleases, but that has nothing to do with the 

P. S. I wish you would do as you proposed 

with your 'Rigs o' Barley.' If the loo-e 

an air for it ; but as to this there is no hurry. 

No. XXIY. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Jane, 1793. 
. that a friend of 
im much interested, has 
sacrifice to these accursed times, you 
ily allow 



When I tell you, nj d 



t The lines w 
e p. 197. 

"Wi'mony i 



alos 



fer. I shall now, with as much alacrity 
an muster, go on with your commands. 
Vou know Fraser, the hautboy play 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 

erulous melody probably hat 

e plaintive indication" of s 

fired at the tyrai 






ilka thought and free, 
breeze flew o'er me : 
langer sport and play- 



Underneath the grass green sod, 
[ should wish to herj how this pleases you. 

No. XXV. 

MR BURNS TO ME THOMSON. 

January, 5, 1793. 

ave you ever, my dear sir, felt your bosor 

--■--. on reading c 

uide km.oio: 



it kingdom, d 



of .1 



is of a 



he first number of Mr Thomson's Mus 
, by Mr ErsWne's ad del, to snbstil 



of scim 



If I 



Tune — "Logan water." 
O, Logan sweetly didst thou glide. 



The birds vc-jc 
The bees hu.i 
Blythe morni 


■1'uU- 


eafy bowers", 
the breathing fl 


My d ™ng 
While Willie 


■tl-s 
\ far 


r a a'eTog7u'brae S 


Within yon n 


K 


itottrSSh 


Or wt' his so 
But I, wi' mj 

Nae mate to r 
Pass widow'd 
While Willie 


gher 


rial's 


ThIt' e brMur'en rou™ e 


Sefh; 


How can your 
The widow's 




hearts enjoy 
he orphan's cry 



Till fley'd awa by Phcebus* light. " 

This thought is inexpressibly beautiful 
and qoite, so far as I know, original. It is to 
short for a song, else I would forswear yo 



tigh better suited to the music, these lines 
nferior to the original. This is the only 
ation adopted by Mr Thomson, which 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



altogether, unless you gav 


e it a place. 


I hav 












After balancing 




a musing fi 






d-le 


X5 of 






produced the fol 












far 




or to the fore 




I frankly confes 




it if 


worthy of in 




at all, they migl 
















g of bis trad 




stroked hIS b6S 


the 


ught 


for a cone 


tiding 


O were my lo 


eyo 


nlila 


eh fair, 




VVi* purple 










And I a bird t 










Wben wear 


edo 


amy 


little wing. 




How I wad in 




Wh£ 


n it was torn 





When youthfu' May its bloom 



No. XXVI. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 

Monday, 1st July, 1793. 

tm extremely sorry, ray good sir, that ai 
ing should happen to unhinge you. Tl 



motiy w 
The t 






Tbel 



rests entirely on myself, I „ 
jriginally agreed to join in thi 
laving requested to be off. No m 
I cannot be. The superior exee 
work will create a general dema 
;oon as it is properly known. . 



obliged to you for the exquisite nev 
are sending me ; but thanks, my fi 



elegant one will follow for the Englis 

Your apostrophe to statesmen is admirable, 

supposed gentle character of the fair mourner 



No. XXVII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
July 2, 1793. 



lished tl 



following 



it you. 



The fairest maid was bonnie Jea 
And aye she wrought her mammie' 
The'blyT 



Had D< 

it hawks will r< 



lighter hea 



than 



•r i;v. s 



<■ fa r 



break the soundest re 

ts tie brawest lad, 
1 pride of a' the glen 
tn, sheep and kye, 



lS in the bosom o' the stream, 
The moon-beam dwells at dewy 

Within the breast o' bonnie Jea 



Jear.ie fair 

O canst the 

Or wilt thou 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 

dear; get of what place; but from R 

lacy me ? j What a charming apostriphe is 

le fortune, why this en 



ir byre thou shall na drudge, 



i Why, why to 
! The old ballad, < I wish I were where Helen 
of °it in Johnson's is not"mueh better. Mr Pin- 



i aye between them 
e thoughts of inserl 



and fame; which will now be trie 
■s of Taste— all whom 




Being a bard of nature, I have so 


me preten- 
rranted by 
your great 



No. XXVIII. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

July, 1793. 

me with your pecuniary parcel. It dfgrades 
me in my own eyes. However, to return it would 
sa, our of affectation ; but as to anv more traf- 
fic of that debtor and creditor kind, I swear 
by that Honour which crowns the uprisrht sta- 
tue of Robert Burr.s's Inteirritv-oa the least 
r-.o. ion cf :c, I •■'. . . - .:. i .;. -.■■■■• .■•-',. 

tbfe 'stringer to^u \ Bur™s''s charl 
acter for generosity of sentiment and indepen- 



No. XXIX. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS, 
Edinburgh, August, 3 793. 

letters, and am happy to find you are qu 
pleased witl 
When you c 



sirjplv : 



my copy of you 



' The Flowers of the Foresl 
ic notes : but, though out c 



dinburgh. She is a Mrs Coc 



•Thebi 



he char" " 



will be c 






hope you 



is ae night,' and several of the live 
ait the muse's leisure : these are f 
orlhy of her choicest gifts ; besidt 



> the 



'Thel 



lord Gregory, ' and the like ; for in 
he manner the Ui or !J- fr :( i '.' er.tly sun-, v-u 

ense. Indeed both the airs and words are 

urging sty e in which they are too often per. 
'expression 



* There is a cony cf this ballad given i 
he account of the parish of Kirkpatric'k-Fleu 
n", (which contains the tomb of Fair Hele 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



No. XXX 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

August, 1793. 

I hold the pen for our friend Clarke, who, i 

a! m' r "'e!l-v.' l ."" V, 'i''"e ' Georgium Sidus.'b 
thinks, is rather out of tune ; so, until he ret 



He 



Confound ypv 



.ited, I 



S. CLARKE. 



No. XXXI. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



PHILLIS THE FAIR. 
Tune— " Robin Adair. " 



breathing spring, 

d fare ; 

's golden eye, 



Phillis the fair. 



it to the opening day, 

i thy bbom, did I say 1 ","" 
,1111== the fair. 



Phillis the fair, 
nuch for namby-pamby. I may, after 



t the last band to the song 1 
Id Kail in Aberdeen.' If it 
■t it, I shall be pleased, as 



Nj. XXXII. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



stances attending this publication of in Be, 
that it has procured me so many of your much 
vain d epistles. Pray make my acknowledge . 
ments to St Stephen for the tunes : tell him I 
admit the justness of his complaint on my 

your j u d'esprit; which I perused more than 

though a sagacious friend, acquainted with the 
convivial habits of the poet and the musician, 
ottered me a bet of two to one, you were just 
drowning care together ; that an empty bowl 
was the only thing that would deeply affect 



I shall b 






dair' a Scottish dress. Peter is furnishing 

m with an English suit for a change, and 

you are well matched together. Robin's air 

is excellent, though he certainly has an out of 

wight was plagued with. I wish you would 

be substituted for the concluding objectionable 
verses of « Down the burn Davie,' so that this 

from good company. 

Mr Allan has made an inimitable drawing 
from your ' John Anderson my Jo,' which I 
am to have engraved, as a frontispiece to the 
humorous cla^s of songs ; you will be quite 
charmed with it, I promise you. The old 
couple are seated by the fireside. Mrs Ander- 
son in great good humour, is clapping John's 

with such glee, as to show that he fully recol- 

were < first acquent. ' The drawing would do 
the pencil of Tenters. 



No. XXXIIL 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

August, 1793. 

That crinkum-crankum tune • Robin Adair, 

has run so in my bead, and I succeeded so il 

in my last attempt, that I have ventured iu tbi; 



iir, will remember an ui 
■orthy friend C.'sst-jr*. 
iL..-> -ars ago. That 



BURNS. —CORRESPONDENCE. 

er,* or ' My love Annie's very bon 



Where the winds howl to the wave's dashing 


grove, 




The yellow corn was waving ready : 


There would I weep my woes, 


Ih^n'd to a lover's sang, 


There seek my last repose, 


And thought on youthfu' pleasures moo 


Till grief my eyes should close, 






dearly do I lo'e thee Annie, f ° 


Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare, 


happy be the woodbine bower, 


All thy fond plighted vows— fleeting as air! 


Nae nightly bogle mak it eerie ; 


To thy new lover hie, 




Laugh o'er thy perjury, 


The place and time I met my dearie. 






What peace is there. 


She, sinkin said, "I'm thine for ever ! 




While mony a kiss the seal impress'd, 


By the way, I have met -with a musical 

Hollander, in Breadalfaane's fencibles, which 


The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. 






The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae, 


well remembers his mother singing Gaelic 




How cheery through her shortening day, 


chree.' They certainly have more of the 




Scottish than Irish' taste in them. 


But can they melt the glowing heart, 


This man comes from the vicinity of Inver- 


Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure 


ness ; so it could not be any intercourse with 


Or through each nerve the rapture dart, 



lish." Thefai 
called a HighL 



rvith a Gaeli 
, I think, 
it is. Do 



No. XXXIV. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSt 



r unworthy of so fine 



it formerly occupiec 
it of your fancy. 







No. 


XXXY. 






MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 










August, 1793. 






'Whist 






to 


e of j our 
day I se 


airs? I 
the folio 


dmire it much : and y 
ving verses to it. Urba 


X 




om Im 




re , begged them of me, 




th 


theloo 


the air m 


'her a b n t evU I eye d on S y a c 


!,r 


if 


rk, I di 

- "- 


. not choo 


se to comply.^Howev 
m! UI The U set of' the 


a - v 


which I ha 


a in my e 


e, is in Johnson's A 


ti- 


O 


vhistle 


nd I'll co 


me to you, my lad, \ 




° 


whistle 


nd I'll cc 


me to you, my lad ; 






*Arno 


ntain we 


t of Strath-Allan, 3003 






-R. B. 








Or, " 


my lov 


R. B. 






t la some of the 


MSS. the first four li 


nes 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

jt beauty, how frail and how rieotiiit 






Mr Clarke begs you to give Miss Phillis I 
corner in your book, as she is a partioulai 
flame of his. She is a Miss P. M., sisler t< 
'onnie Jean. They are both pupils of his, 
fou shall hear from me, the very first grist . 
get from my rhyming mill. 



may lightly my beauty a wee ; 
anither though joking ye be, 
' 7 frae me. 

• The muck- 

g slow, with 
had had bel- 
fry ; that I have endeavoured to supply 



No. XXXVI. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

August, 1793. 
tat tune ' Cauld Kail,' is such a favourite of 
tt the muses ;t when the 



r.'ili-r in. 



e song on my glowi 
ice, dfnce I left Coil 

■y musings, by catch 

s hither, or at leas 
.its; secondly, the 1 



And on thy lips 1 



wilight, probably from gloom- 
il poetical word which ought 
England. A gloamin-shot, a 



BURNS.- CORRESPONDENCE. 



i. I am not fond of choruses 1c 
lave uot made one for the foregoii 



No. XXXVII. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
August 1793. 
DAINTY DAVIE. 



The crystal waters round us 

Meet rue, &c. 

When purple morning starts 
To steal upon her early fare, 



ch for Dav 
low part o: 
n the Mus 



No. XXXVIII. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 1st Sept. 17C3. 
nee wrilii.gyoula 



pith whicl 
The 






lOJ.OU 



ling Nith,' and ' By j 



you. The rinion we are now f< 


rming, I tbink 


can never be broken ; these son 


gs of yours will 


descend with the music to the 


latest posterity, 


and will be fondly eker shed so 


long as genius 












t of Til the' fa- 


vours I have to ask of her, 




twenty and three ! I have bu 


dened the pleas- 




is piobable he 


will attend to: most of the 




would puzzle the English pc 


et not a Tittle, 



No. XXXIX. 

-MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

SepL 1733. 

exertion in my power is heartily at your ser- 
vice. But one thing I must him to vou ; the 
very name of Peter Pindar is of great service 

now and then; though I have nTobjertion, 'as 

well as I cau, to bear the burden of the busi- 



* Dainty Davie is 
ng, from which B 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, 



pitch of enthusiasm on the theme of Liberty 
and Independence, which I threw into a kit ' 
Df Scottish ode, fitted to the air that one mij] 
suppose to be the gallant Royal Scot's addre 
[o his heroic followers on that eventful mori 



No. XL. 
SIR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



BRUCE TO HIS TROOPS. 



:ay, my dear sir, that you 
er, I can't help it ; a bi 



To its own Tune. 

Scots, wha hae wi' Walhce bled, 
Scots wham Bruce has aftenled ; 



s the day, and now's the 1 
le front o' battle lcnr ; 
>proach proud Edward's i 
:hains andslaTerie! 



Then once it has fairly m 
ess wight, it gets se enamout 
inkle-gingle, tinkle-gingle of it 
hat it is sure to run noor Pil-sar 
lam jockey, quii 



:e u f u~. 



n your book. I have 



Let him follow n: 



Lay the proud usurpers low : 
Let us Do or Die > ' 

So may God ever defend the cause of Trutl 
and Liberty, as he did that day ! — Amen. 

P. S.— I showed the air to Urban:, who w* 
highly pleased with it, and ' 



softi 



t I had 



tofgi 



. ouble on the subject, till I _ __ 
dental recollection of that glorious struggle fo: 
freedom, associated with the glowing iu'eas o 



Clar 



;et of the t 
n the Musi 



te, with h 

m ; though I am afra 



poet during a storm among the wilds of Gien- 
Ken, in Galloway. A more finished copy will 
be found afterwards. 



fowl round me cry 
my wistfjl'eye : 



No. XLI. 
MR THOMSON" TO MR BURNS. 
Edinburgh, bth Sept. 3 7S*. 
I believe it is generally allowed that the great- 



uredly your partiality for this tune nr.ut uris- 

raditiou concerning it, for I never heard any 
, e rson,-and I have conversed again and 
gain with the greatest enthusiasts for Scot- 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 277 

ird any one speak of , ' Through the wood laddie :' I am decidedly 
! of opinion, that both in this and • There'll ne- 

rer the whole hnn- I ver he peace till Jamie comes hame, ' the 
r high part of the tune being a repeli- 
ie tirst part an octave higher, is only 

variation of the fourth line, which I shall pre- ter omitted in singing.' 

sentl? submit to you. There is in 'Lewie ' Cowden-knowes. ' Remember in your in- 

Gordon' more of the grand than the plaintive, | des that the song in pure English to this tune, 



about substituting your ode in the room of 
' Lewie Gordon,' which has neither the inter- 



the only line too short for the air, is 

Verse 1st, Or to glorious victorie. 

2d, Chains -chains and sla 

3d, Let him, let him turn a 

4th, Let him bravely follow 

5th, But they shall, they sh 

6Ui, Let us, let us do or di< 



proposed. These little alterations I submit 



No. XLIL 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
September, 1793. 



rn, Davi< 



half of the thin 
As down the 1 



many of them he merely signifies 
All his remarks of^any in 
nted to the reader. 



expression ; then choose my theme ; begin one 
nerally the most difficult part of the business, 

unison or harmony with the cogitations of my 
fancy, and workings of my bosom ; humming 
every now and then the air with the verses I 
have framed. When I feel my music begin- 

my study, and there commit my effusions to 



■enatCrookie-den.'&c. 



is objectionable in pc 
:h admired by our ba 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



'Aula Sir Simon,' I mast beg you to leav. 
it, and put in its place, ' The Quaker's wif 

• Iilvi'ie hae I r — 



.e bill * is one of 



Jtiful, lovely 

mrpose giving you the names and desig. 
is of all my heroines, to appear in some 






er, Jamie, Thou has 



ered out and began i 



like, before I pi 
Eng'lish. 



FRAGMENT. 
ne-" Saw ye my father 



But sorrow and sad s'ghing c: 



'en I'll close— ne 



' Jocky and Jennj' I 
the h'jii-e,' which has a 



<" The Scottish (the Editor uses the word 
bstantively, as the English) employ the ab- 
matioo, I'll for I shall as well as I will; 
d it is for I shall it is used here. In An- 
ndale, as in the northern counties of En=- 
id, for I shall, they use 1'se. 
t This is the whole of the song, the bard 
ver proceeded farther.— Note by Mr J'/iom- 






.rdingly, you 
incert, try it 
urn, « Ye ban 



AULD LANG SYNE. 



Ud the daj s o' lang syne 

Chorus. 

For auld lang si 

We'll 



iuld Ian 



ir auld laJig syue. 






•I 



<jm>* 




BURNS. —CORRESPONDENCE. 

Nob's the day ai 



For auld, &c. 
:wahaepaidleti' the burn, 



and, my trusty fiere, 
land o' thine; 



Now, I suppose I have tired your patience 

number of ballads," properly so called'. ' Gill 
Morice, Tranent Muir, M-Phersun's Fare- 
well, Battle of Sheriff-muir,' or ' We ran and 



land's Co 


::,l 


int, a 


.Of.k ;, 






s. It t 




nks o' He 
an has bro 




to light" 


nr; 


aTitrt' 


11. 


tory of 












but it i? a 


- w : 


t curios 


ty. 1 



No. XLIII. 
Mil BURNS TO .MR THOMSON. 



e altered the song as follows : 
BANNOCKBURN. 



Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled ; 
Scots wham Bruce has aften led ; 
Welcome to your gory bed, 



Wha for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw ! 
Freeman stand or freeman fa', 
Caledonian! on wi' me! 



shall be-shall be frei 



he common stall edition of Wallace. 

And liberty returns with every blow'. " 

A couplet worthy of Homer. Yesterday 
ou had enough of my correspondence. The 
ost goes, and my head aches miserablv. 
>ne comfort; I suffer 



No. XLIV. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



A thousand tha 
your observat/o 


nks to y 

s on tbe 


is! o7my 


: 'L-~. 


ir, for 

gs. I 


am happy to £n 


lyouride 










specting 


he gener 


'->■ 


of the 


airs as well as 


the vers 


s. Abou 






differ, but there 




puling ab 




lobby- 


horses. I sha 


1 not fa 


to proli 


by 






; and to 


reconside 


l lie 




witb attention. 










< Dainty Dav 




he suns t 






together and th 


en the ch 




the 


proper 












something rf pa 












i.m, la 1 




p-, 


,ii, led 


wilh ai fee !ing; e b 


at a tend 










ively air, 


if -,OU s 


n S 


t very 




vely, and 






ivords. 




clearly and invan 


5 


for re- 


taining the cheerful tune 
















able. But the 




ng for • F 






ther,' which yo 






ack 


fmid- 






n addition 




e. Mr 


JamVs Balfour 1 ," 




of good f 


lio'A 






of the li 


ely Scott 


sh 


allad? 


that ever exfste 


1, has charmed tb 






companies with 


•Fee h 


m, faiher 


'ar 


d wits 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 






disuni 



vould V, 



is so coarse and -vulgar, that I think it fit only 

and ' Saw ye my father' appears to me both 
indelicate and silly. 

One word more with regard to your heroic 

death more frightful than it is. Gory, presents 
a disagreeable image to the mind; and to tell 



again under your notice. I would suggest, 

'• Now prepare for honour's bed, 
Or for glorious victorie." 

No. XLV. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Sept. 1793. 

" Who will decide when doctors disagree V 

My ode pleases me so much that I cannot al 



I have finished my song to • Saw ye my 
father ;' and in English, as you will see. 
That there is a syllable loo much for the ex- 
say, that the mere dividing of a dotted crotchet 
into a crotchet and a quaver, is not a great mat. 

to cope in judgment with you. Of the ptetry 
I speak with confidence; but the music is a 
business where I hint my ideas with the ut- 

The old verses have merit, though unequal, 
and are popular ; my advice is to set the air to 
the old words, and let mine follow as English 





FAIR JENNY. 


Tur 


e—'S 


w ye my 


father.' 


'T\i 


; ,o; ' \ 


'that aw 


arTy^ngT 
lited my wand 


"'"? 


the wi 


d woods 


among ? 


;',l:'i 


nding 
gswe 


he cours 
t flow're 


s of yon river, 
s so fair j 



mposed. Bruce's troops were inured 
, and familiar with all its sufferings and 
s. On the eve of that memorable day, 
pirits were without doubt wound up tc 



nay be sup- 



* Mr Thomson has very properly adopted your 
lis song, if it may be so called, as the bard seem 
resented it to him. He has attached it to the deed 



Et pitch of mortal exertion. Thei 
i might be illustrated and supportec 
ice to the martial poetry of M n; 

Mi* "Mr 
Yel 

a discouraginj 

mt^oMts 



■red. Perl 



rved that Burns adopted the alterations pro- 


of taste c 


n the altar of the imagination. And 






privilege of superior genius, by pro- 






,ev. association, to elevate expressions 


deed, on all indifferent occasions. In the 




orieinaily low, and thus to triumph 




over the 


deficiencies of language. In how 


lough repeatedly urged, with determined re- 


many ir 


stances might this be exemplified 


link... With every respect for the judg- 




works of our immortal Shakspeare. 


ent of Mr Thomson and his friends, we may 






e satisfied that be did so. He who in prepar- 




«' Who wou!d/ar<Ms bear. 


ig for an engagement attempts to withdraw 






is imagination from images of death, will 


When b 


himself niic:bt iii= quietus make 


robably have but imperfect success, and is 


With a I 




ot fitted to stand in the ranks of battle, where 






• liberties of a kingdom are at issue. Of 


It wer 


e easy to enlarge, but to suggest smh 


ach men the conquerors at Bannockburn were 


reflectioi 


s is probably sufijeient. 



BURNS.- CORRESPONDENCE, 

Ravin- winds around her blowing. 



Proclaim it the pride of the year. 



Is Jenny, fair Jen 

Time cannot aid me, 
Nor Hope dare a c 



amour'd and fond of n 
arsir! The post goes 



No. XL VI. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



ie Collier's Dochter,' take I 
Bacchanal. 

Delnded swain, the pleasu 
The tickle fair can give ! 

Thy hopes will soon dec< 

The billows on the ocean. 



that you would find it the most saleable of the 
Roy's wife,' 



nusic's sake we shall ll 
k the wars,' is a cha: 



The song, otherwise will pass. As to • M'- 
Iregoira Rua-Ruth,' you will see a song of 
line to it, with a set of the air superior to 
ours, in the .Museum Vol. ii. p. 181, 'lhe 



trikes me as equal to your selection. ' T 
3 no mine ain house,' is a great favourite 



What pleases me, as simple and naive, dis- 

son, • Fye, gir n.e mj eoggie, sirs '_« Fye 
let us a' to the bridal,' with several others of 
that cast, are, to me, highly pleasing; while, 

ddi^ts e mY w'-h"'u V^i-i'. '?im a "e" er a 
i i ' 1 v h"t°Me_ o" 



No. XLVII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
October, 1793 

3 ur last letter, my dear Thomson, was 
ed laden with heavy news. Alas, poor E 
l recollection that he was a co 









ungforyou. 

t you are reconciled to the 

r's Wife,' though, by the 



Known by the name of ' Leiger'm choss. : 
following verses I hope will please you, 
English song to the air. 






DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

[, my failhful fair, 



To thy bosom la 

There to thro 

Though despair 



:al its anguisl 



THE NIGHTINGALE. 



Nature gay adorning. 

Your objection to the Englis] 
posed for ' John Anderson, my jc 
just. The following is by an old 



more original good poetry 



"While here all melancholy, 

My passion I deplore. 
Yet, urged by stern resistless 



ra haunts my fansy still. 



Let generous pity wan 

My wonted peace re= 

And grateful I stall bl 

The following address . 
nightingale will suit, as i 
the air, ' There was a lass 
By the bye, Turnbull has i 

manner. Tossibly, as he 



'I!,,- 


ugh unfrequented wild, I 


Let 




Lau 


a haunts my fancy still.' 


Wb 


n at night the drowsy god 


Wa 




And 


to Fancy's wakeful eyes, 


Uid- 


celestial visions rise ; 


Wli 


le with boundless joy I rev 


Tur 


ugh the fairy land of love: 


Let 




Lau 


a haunts my fancy still. 


here 


t of your letter I snail ansvi 



BURNS. -CORRESPONDENCE. 

< I'll wed anol 



No. XLV1H. 
5JR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
1th Nov. 1793. 






t gave 





se your 




■% 


o be apprehensive 
ou. _ I am happy 

id that you have go 








'ho 


sTwhic 


your Engl 



friend. Mr f urnbulPs^o"^!^" "d^ubtle" 
considerable merit ; and as you have the com- 
mand of his manuscripts, I hope you may find 

the airs yet unprovided. 

No. XL1X. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

December, 1793. 
Tell me how you like the following verses to 



Nor longer idly ra 

Though I am your w 

Yet I am not your 



If 'ti 

1*11 d 
And 


slil 
so, 


the lordly wi 
and obedience 
my sovereign 
good bye, ail 


lord, 


"Sad 
Na 

Yet 1 
My 


spot 


I be so beref 
Nancy ; 

Snt." 1 


ift, 


My p 


orb 


eart then brea 


kit must, 


AVhe 
Th 


J' 


iLxvi 


u will bear 


"I VI 

Na 

S.ren 

My 


ill hope and trust 
gth to bear i't will 


n heaven, 


•Well, sir 
Still I' 

Everroun 
Horrid 


from the sile 


t dead, 



My spouse Nc 
Air— "The 



'sDochter." 

,v wrings thy gentle hi 

ve I bear thee'* 
vow that only thou 



Or if thou wil 
Say na thou'l 
If it winna, ci 
Thou for thin, 



No. L. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
Edinburgh, 7th April, 1794. 



it the 



of our friend for the loss 
hoVle"ter, re ihldfot°™ 



Orlin 


whoke 


eps all Paris i 


good humour. 


Alas! 


ir, rep: 






happy 


Carlini ! 






Your 


plan for our meeting 


together pleases 


me gre 


tly, and 


1 trust that by 








on take place 


but your Kac- 


chanal 


an chall 


nge almost fri 












Allai 


is much grat 




of hist 




He has just 








r's Saturday Night, and if it 


pleases 


engrave 


a the design, 
it. In subjec 


be will probably 










,-' "; ; ' 




ing. He fails 






■uid gra 




es, and his co- 








is paintings and 










i iik 


e the mu 


sic of the ' Su 


tor's Dochter,' 


andwi 


1 consid 


r whether it st 


all be added to 








o it are pretty ; 


tut ;.o 


r homo 


ou"- Engl.shto 


suit ' Jo Janet' 


is inim 


i table. 


What think y 


ou of the air , 


*A 


letter to 


Mr Cunningh 


m to be found 



DIAMOND CABIiNET LIBRARY, 
f Edinburgh:' It has al-| work tc 



MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



le ablest judge on the 






;s Allan a most 01 
artist of great excellence. 

For my part, 1 look on Mr Allan's ch. 
my favourite poem for his subject, to 1 



II T H!f 



t Pi, 



-ut with the happir. 
mted a copy of your 



vrote on the b! 
lowing addres: 



Lccept the gift ; though 
gives, 
Rich is the tribute of the i 



;, Mr Graham of Fin try. 
the young lady. 

i and tuneful numbers 
bumble he who 



So may no ruffian f feeling in thy breast, 
Discordant jar thy bosom chords among ; 

Or pity 's notes in luxury of tears, 

As modest want the tale of woe reveals ; 
While conscious virtue all tbe strain endear , 

No. LIU. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 

Edinburgh, 10,'A August, 1793. 



in the following song. 

BANKS OF CREE. 



i the woodlark in the gro- 



No. LI1. 
I BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



season approaches 
Coila visits you, I tn 
frequenily grati6ea 



t I shall, as form 



No. L1V. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

3 Ih Aug uel, 17S4. 

he last evening, as I was straying out a. 

linking of 'O'er the bills and far aw 

,un the following stanza for it ; but wh 



her 



is threi 



o the dev 












BURNS. -CORRESPONDENCE. 



hasty sketch, until I see whe 
t a critique. We have man 
iut, as far as I at present reeol 
nostly the effusions of the jovis 



ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY. 

Tune—' O'er the Hills,' &c. 

How can my poor heart be glad. 
When absent from my sailor lad ; 
How can I the thought forego, 
He's on the seas to meet the foe ; 



NLhU;" it 


IV- 


ind thoughts by day 


Are with hi 


mth 


I's far away. 




Chorus. 


On the s 


as an 


d far away, 


On storm 




3 and far away, 


Nightly i 




s and thoughts by da 


Are aye u 


ithh 


im that's far away. 


When in s 


mm 


r's noon I faint 






around me pant, 


Haply in th 




rching son, 












e o"^joy! S ^ UQ ' 


Bullets, sp 




• darling boy ! 






what you may, 






On the 


seas 


&C. 


.At the star 


essn 


idnighthonr, 


When win 






.As the storms th 




And thund 




id the howling air, 


List'ning t 




doubling roar, 


Surging on 
All I can— 


the rocky , 






For his we 




I's far away. 


On the 


seas 


&c. 


Peace, thy 


olive 


wand extend, 


And bid wi 




r his ravage end, 


Wan with 










kindly greet: 


Then may 


,,v. 


n, wiihprosp 'rousg 


Fill my sa 




welcome sails, 


To my arm 


- the 


r charge convey, 



MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
Edinburgh, 16th Sept. 1794. 

m have anticipated my opinion of ' On the 



ceptatio 



s that a 



worthy of el! 



the least to my liking, pari.- 
llarly, • Bullels, spare my only joy. ' Cun- 

of imagery, and that greater simplicity of 






DUU 1, 



irt. Tbe I 





LVI. 








MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 








Sept 


1794 




1 shall withdraw 








far 










°y 


of the work. Ma 


ing a po 


hether yo 


begett 
l hav 


ng 


tisTmarTorTfoo 




ou produce him 














For that reason 


I send y 


m the offspring 


of 






and as si 


ch,p 




look over them a 


id forgiv 




nd b 




them.* Iamfla 






ng « Ca' 


the yewes to the k 












w ihe 1 


ght. Abo 






years ago I was w 


ell acqua 






!<y 


little fellow of a 




i, a Mr 


Clunz 




who sang it cha 


i, IK.-!. ; 




r-qc 




Mr Clarke took 




from his 


= tn- 


■-'■ 


When I gave it 




on, I adc 






stanzas to the soi 




ended ot 






still it will not do 


Porjon. 


In a soli! 


aryst 


oil 


few pastoral lines 


d foliowin 


"upThe'i 


eaoflhe 



Ca' the yewes to the knc 
Ca' tbem whare the heal 



Note by Mr Thomson. 

Doctors differ. The objection I 
stanza does not strike the Editor 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. , 

ich was my Chloris 



We'll gae down by Clouden sid< 
Through the hazels spreading w 
O'er the waves that sweetly glid, 

Ca' the, &c . 

sr Clonden's 



When 



UMIlsllMM 



Ghaist nor bo; 

Thou'rt 10 lov 

Nocht of ill b 

M, bonnie . 



Ca' the, &c. 
all give you my opin 



No. LT1L 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

September, 1794. 
Do vou know a blackboard Irish song, called 
• Onagh's Water-fall i' The air is charming, 
and I have often regretted the want of decent 



sing before ladies. 
SHE SAYS SHE LO'ES ME BEST 



>« Onagh's Water-fall." 



few 


vh"; 


igly o'e 


1*1 

!.-r 


mii 


ugbing 


V. 


i.A ii 


akeo. w 


Unto these ros 



Wad 


make a saint 


forget the sky, 


Sae wa 






Herf 




and graceful air ; 


Ilk feat 


re— auld Nature " 


Declared that she 




Hersar 






By co 


nquering beauty's sovereign law ; 


And aye 






Shes 


»vsshe lo'es 


rue best of a'. 


J-»t others love the c 


>J. 


Andg 






Gieme 


he lonely va 


ley. 


Thed 






Fair bea 


m ng andstr 


earning. 


Hers 




boughs amar.g ; 


While f 


illing.'recall 


ng, 


The a 






rhere, c 


earest Chlor 




:$™ 


npling burn 


and leafy shaw, 



: in music is like the mighty Frederick of 

requently admired what the connoisseurs 
ied, and always without any hypocrisy 
essed his admiration. I am sensible that 



unes. Still, because I am cheaply pleased, 
i that any reason why I should deny mvself 
knt P and U m ' ^P^an- 

njoyment, where you and other judges would 
irobauly be showing disgust. For instance, I 
am just now making verses for ' Sothicmur- 

er can make verses to it. Here I have 



" 


on his 
t of the 


un e"fori 


"h™"" 


taken the first 
d the fourth or 




/kTthe 


work, and possibiy^-ou may think, 








poetry is as little worth 


•■-■ 




on as th 














me in this ae 




ht.' D 




ik that we 


ought to retain 


if 








ust retain both 


..:;; 


£-. I dO 


notrilo 


- = ifr ;~;":e 


iza of the old 
the third line 


of 


he first 


tanza, b 








self. I 




three stan 


zas deep in it. 


\V 


>uld you 


have lie 


•denouem 


nt" to be sue. 


s In the 


original follow here 


two stanzas of 






nnine, 




the lint-white 




is ;' which will be found at 


full length af- 


ter 


wards. 









BURNS.- CORRESPONDENCE. 


Verw'ise ; should she "let him in' ' 


peared since the ' Duenu 




: (here is lit 


not once pvopose « The Sow's tail 


the fable, or in the d.i 




audience. They are chi 


ited with it; but I acknowledge 


and pageantry. I think 


ark of its real excellence. I once 




rses fo> it, which I meant to be in 


the poetry, at the same t 


e way/of a lover and his mi, tress 






iul >Lur, Part of the s 


5 lhom,oil'» Christian name, and 


be to our favourite Scotti 


afraid, is rather burlesque for senti- 


be left with the Londo 




for Drury Lane, or Sine 




both of them very able ar. 


you like the following epigram, 


I believe that interest 


»te the other day on a lovely young 


often necessary to have 



How d. 
which I wi 
girl's recovery from a fever ? Dc 



TO DR MAXWELL, 



God grant you patience with this si 

No. LVIII. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



r fa'. 



st of a', ' 



spey music ; on the contrary, I think it highly 
animating aud agreeable, and that swue L f die 

ery pleasing songs, in the 



same way i hat ro 


.ghChristiansare-temperec 


and softened by lo 




you know, tuey h 




I am clear for 1 




ticularly as your 












Mrs Thomson's 


ia me (Katharine) is not a' 


all poetical. Re 












Your ' Ca* the 




morceau. Indee 








fancy. Here le 






urned your thoughts upon 


dramatic' writing 








all its splendour. 


One or two successful pieces 


upon the London 


stage would make your for- 


tane. The rag 


at present is for musical 


dramas ; few or r 


one of those which have ap- 



iby pamby tribe of 
ilowery scribblers: but were you lo address 
Mr Sheridan himself by letter, and send him 



Excuse me for obu 



No. LIX. 
I THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



ed, till I am half blind and wholly stupid. 
The few airs 1 have added, are inclosed. 

Peter Pindar has at length sent me all the 
songs I expected from him, which are in gene- 
ral elegant and beautiful. Have you heard of 
a London collection i I Set I ish airs and songs, 
just published by Mr Ritson an Englishman. 
I shall send you a copy. His introductory 



though he shows clearly that Air Tytler : 
ingenious dissertation, has adduced no 
proof of the hypothesis he wished to est; 



He snarls at my pn 
'indar being engasedi 
ididly and unjustly le 



His sets of the Scol 



■y person of taste, old ol 



: know not how long:, by 
l, before being collected an 
erent persons sang the sac 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

To descend to bu 
of ' When she car 



No. LX. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

19th October, 1794. 



MY DEAR FRIEND, 














f it. I shall, at 






rke goe 


'to your town by 




,sh you 


would call on r 






general: you kn 




'dard. 


He will return he 


e again in a week 






asking for him. 




I hope he will do, 


persuade you to 


pt my" 
r select 


avourite, < Craigi 


-burn-wood,' in 
a favourite of his 


f mine. 


The lady on who 




of the finest women in S 


cotland: snd, in 


, (entre 






rne's El 




aistress. a friend, 


that yo 


will, in the guile 


ess simplicity of 




: e -S^J°i\ 


put any of your 



I have a glorious recipe ; the very one that for 
his own use was invented by the divinity of 
healing and poetry, when first he piped to the 
flocks of Admetus. I put myself in a regimen 
:>f admiring a fine woman ; in proportion to the 
adorability of her charms, in proportion you 
are delighted with my verses. The lighinr.T 
if her eye is the godhead of Parnassus, and the 
witchery of her smile, the divinity of Helicon! 



you like > 
bolbet,' 



;red a little frojn 
vtiat iney were formerly when set to another 
iir, may perhaps do instead of worse stanzas. 

SAW YE MY PHELY, 

Quasi dical Phillis.) 

Tune- « When she cam ben she bobbet. ' 

Phely ? 
Phely? ^ 

ie~hame to her Willie. 



What says sh 


e, rat 


dearest 


m, Phely 






Yv hat sav, si 






niv Phely 










that she has thee f 






And for eve 


r diso 


irns the 


, her Willi 






had I ne'er 


seen 


hee, m 


Phely ! 






had I ne'er 






j Phely ! 






As light as th 








Tai 




Thou's bro 


ten the heart 


' tby Will 






Now for a f 


wmi 


cellane 


us remarks 




T 


Posie' (in th 




:um). 












down 


frorr Mrs 






voice.* It is 






n the Wes 


( 




try, but the o 


•J V.O 


ds are 


rash. By 


he 


b, 



trusty and deservedly well-beloved, 
Masterton. « Donocht-head, ' is not rr 
would give ten pounds it were. It a| 
first in the Edinburgh Herald; am 

Newcastle post-mark on it. t ' Whist 



poem so highly praised by Bur, 

Keen blaws the wind o'er I 

The snaw drives snelly tb 
The Gaberlunzie tirls my si 



My Eppie wake: 

Get up, Guidi 

For K-eel ye ken 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 



John Bruce, a celebrated violin player in Dum- 
fries, about the beginning of this century. 
This I know; Brace, who was an honest man, 
though a red-wud Highlandman, constantly 
claimed it ; and by all the old musical people 
here is believed to be the author of it. 

« Andrew and his cutty gun. ' The soug tc 

was composed on Miss Euphemia Murray, 
of Linlrose, commonly and deservedly called, 

' How lang and dreary is the night.' I met 
with some such words in a collection of .on- 
somewhere, which 1 altered and enlarged j and 

« Tune— Cauld kail in Aberdeen. ' 
v lang and dreary is the night, 



When 



■ 1 iiu 



Chorus. 
For oh, her lanely nights are la 



of the tune. There 

,f tenderness in it. 

n, dispense with a 

A lady of my ac- 



te far frae hame. 



Sad party-strife o'erturn dm; 

And, weeping ac the eve o- life, 

I wander through a wreath o' 

ete. The author need not be 
rn himself. It is worthy of E 



that I shall 
gs sent into 
d;ye-call-um 



Tune—' Deil tak the wars.' 

st thou or wak'stlhoo, fairest erealure 
' morn now lifts his eye, 
jriug ilka bud which Nature 

ihrough the leafy woods, 

Nature's tenants, freely, gladly stray ; 



While the s'u 
day.f. 



:o the sky 
mgs o* joy, 



i ilka darksome 
- - ning and ad, 
my lovely n 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



The murky shades o' care 
With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky ; 

But when in beauty's light, 

She meets my ravish'd sight, 

When through my very heart 

Her beaming glories dart ; 
'Tis then I wake to life, toll 

If you honour my verses by 
them", I will vamp up the ol. 
it English enough to be unde 

Indian air, which you would 
tish one. I know the authenticity or it, as t 
gentleman who brought it over is a parlieul 
.-..■nnaintanne of mine. Do preserve me t 
is the only one I hai 



she is the object of tl 

you. ' O to be lying 

perhaps a consumma 

not do for singing i. 

:, and joy.* The songs in your las 

tting the air to perfectly of your op! 

mg, and make i additional airs. Th< 

^od. to the world naked a 

ity, an East generous. They mu 

'-' decent by our friend 

^I^Iam^nticii 



i the company of ladies 



bed and made 
friendly Cuni 



lee 



ilarke has 






il Mus 



and I ii 



dfor 



efol- 



THE ATJLD MAN. 
ly seenjn gladsome green 



miscellaneous remarks will, I 

irniing design from Maggie Lau-, 
dancing with such spirit as to 
iper, who seems almost dancing 
is playing with the most exqui- 

inclined to get a small copy, and 



Again Bhall bring tliem 



Bntmy white 


pow. 


nael 


indly thowe 


Shall melt 1 








My trunk of e 












nn-v 




Oh, age has weary 






And nights 




pless 




Thou golden t 




youthfu' prime, 


Why corn's 








I would be ob 


» P d 








t Hi 




collection of 


sh songs, whic 






ion in your 1 


will thank you 


for a 






bat as speedily 


as y 


„ pi 












ompletely tired 




fmy 


corresponded 



No. LXI. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
Edinburgh, 27th October, 1794 



P. S— 

personage. 

=urely 6pier for her if you 



No. LXII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



the tedious dull" business of systematic 
igement. Indeed, as all I have to say eon- 
of unconnected remarks, anecdotes, scraps, 



; is on the cold ground. 
er day to my fair Chic 
lame of the lovely godd< 



to be absolutely neces- 
my last, I told you my 
" '"J 



When frae my Chi ris parted, 

Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted, 

night's gloomy shades, cloudy, ( 



, My Chloris 

The prim 

The balmy 

And wav 



es, &c. Somelhini 



BURNS. —CORRESPONDENCE. 



fliela 


■'rock 


hnns the palace 


gaj. 






5 cottage s 






For na 
Tos 


li'pher 




gs'. l 




En 1 


nslrels 

rdiv li_ 


fceTw 


skilfa 


sir 


Thes 






\: i?l ;- 




Bl, 










The p 


rincelj- 


revel may 


surve 




Our 


ru=tic l 


ance wi' 






L'u! a 




hearts as 


ighta 




Ben 




milk-wh 







But is his heart as true i 
These wild-wood flowers I'v, 



ness of this pastoral ? I tb.nk it pretty well. 
I like you for entering so candidly and s 
kindly i—' 1 - 






sion which I deeply feel and highly venerate ; 
but, somehow, it does not make such a figure 
in poesy as that other species of the passion, 

Musically speaking, the first is an instrument 
of which the gamut is scanty and confined, but 

tions of the human soul. Still, 1 am a very 
' siasm of the passion. The 






generosity d 



r pleasures I might 

light be the raptures 

Id give me, yet, if they interim with 



, I think the shift a fail 
i, under the same firsl 
in Ramsay's Tea-Tabk 
t down for an English 



was the charming month of May, 
hen all the flowers were fresh and j 

le youthful, charming Chloe ; 



Lovely was she by the dawn. 

Youthful Ch.oe, charming Chloe, 

Tripping o'er the pearly lawn. 
The youthful, charming Chloe. 

The feather'd people you might see 

In notes of sweetest melody 
They hail the charming Chloe. 



The glorious 
Outrival'd b; 



Lovely was site, &c. 
ifou may think meaniystfrf this, but lake a 
prised that I have made so much of it. 1 



e wi' the lint-white locks, 



When Cynthia lights wi' silver ray, 
The weary shearers' hameward way ; 
Through yellow waving fields we'll st 



le howling wintry bias 



Enclasped to my faithfu' 



Bonnie lassie. 

Wilt thou wi' m 

Wilt thou be i 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

ite locks, 
is lassie, 
the flocks, 



-nt are 


regular!} 




nded. If J 


11: if n 


ot, I wi 1 in 


ert it ill t 


"soTe'nd 


f temper 


tha 


t you shouk 
l'eiltak the 


foolisL 


old ve'r 




You talk 




y Father;' by 


ds is g 


Id to bi 


ass! 


Besides, 




ow pret 


J. w 


11 moderniz 




iuu.,_-, 




originally. 




ns, a bu 


"-'' 


"■}"'■'■' ilml 



an ardent ambition to be able to compose a 
Scots air. Mr Clarke, partly by way of jokl , 
told him to keep to the black keys of the harp 
sichord, and preserve some kind of 
and he would infallibly compose a Scots air. 
Certain it is, that, in a few days, Mr Miller 

! Clarke, with some touches and 'corrections' 

you know, has the same story of the ' black ke^s; 



ationof 
,er, by that genius, Tom 
D'Urfey ; so has no pretensions to be a Scot- 
tish production. There is a pretty English 
song by Sheridan, in the ' Daenna, ' to this air, 
which is out of sight superior to D'Urfey's. 
It begins, 



"When 



e night each drooping plant re 
storing. " 

-, if I understand the expression of i 
y, is the very native language of simpli 



air? It 

know, wa 



n, a gentleman whom possibly )o 
g of Scottish music, Miller express 



* See the song in its first and best di 
). 2S9. Our bard remarks upon it, •' 1 
•asily throw this into an English mould 



son" in p. 26S of this ' 
it for another tune. Th 
portanU The name S 
Eiiza. Instead of th 
lines, as in p. 201, he i 



I fain my griefs would cover. ' 

Instead of the fourteenth line, 
not perfectly grammatical as it 
has, more properly, 



ition ought to have been preferred, had 





luaintance, who took down the 


es from a 


t itinerant piper in the Isle of 


n. How 


difficult then to ascertain the 


se'lf'Tave 


lately seen a couple of ballads 


g through 




neat the ht 


ad of them as the author, though 


vas the firs 


time I had ever seen them. 




u for admitting • Craigie-burn 


Jd;' and 


shall take care lo furnish you 


ha newc 


orus. In fact, (he chorus was 






air. If 










-burn wood' altogether. My 


rt ismucl, 


in the theme. 




ed, my dear fellow, to make the 


nest; 'tis 


unning your generosity ; but in 



ry information out of them, I wi 


1 return 


ou Ritson's volumes. 




The lady is not a little proud that 




ake so distinguished a figure in you 










Lucky 






r when I am in a scribbling humour 


I know 



No. LXIIL 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
15th Korember, 1791 

e receiving ycur last, I have had anoi 

view v.iih Mr Clarke, and a long con 
n. lie tuinks the • Caledonian Hum 



accordingly. Pir.y did it ever occur to ye 
how peculiarly well the Scottish airs at 
adapted for verses, in the form of dialogue 



BURNS — CORRESPONDENCE. 

pilch, but by a female voice. A song thus 
would think of it in some of those'that remain. 



swetdy pastoral 
for • Deil lak th 

them. Your s 



My "dgiliT feci. 
. a diamond of the 



t. Some of jour Chlorises I suppose ha 
relsT'we r0 drffer U about'u l i > for I shou 



Davie,' will answer charmingly. I am bappy 
not how long they be, for it is impossible that 


Sips necta 
"upon tl 


any thing from your pen can be tedious. Let 




me beseech you to use no ceremon;. 


The wood 
When eve 


three copies, and you are as welcome to twenty 
es to a pinch of snuff. 


As is a 





Let fortun 

And fools 


No. LX1V. 


^AndTha 


MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 




19th November, 1794. 


What's a' 



O Philly, happy be that day 
When rovfng through the gatl 

And by thy charms, my Ph: 



re ilka day 
And a c d b5m 


:: 


u-i' r 


my. 


s on the brie 


rlh 


She. 


iir 


The love I bear 


II); Wi 


7e' 



I am much pleased with your idea of sing- 
that remain, I shall have it in my eye. I re- 
but it is the common abbreviation^ Phillfs' 

Sally, the only other name (hat suits, has, to 
my ear, a vulgarity about it, which unfits it for 
any thing except burlesque. The legion of 

brother editor, Mr Ritsont rack's witl'meC'as 

for simplicity ; whereas simplicity is as much 
etofgriee from vulgarity on ihe one hand, as 

I agree wiih yon as to the air, 'Craigie-burn 



231 DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

chorus going first, (hat is the case with < Roy's 
Wife,' as well as ' Rothiemurche. ' In 

fact, in the first part of both tunes, the rhyme is 

larity depends i 



Since yesterday's penmanship, I have fram- 
ed a couple of English stanzas, by way of aa 
■'■^ to Roy's wife. You 



le want of. 

fO Roy's wife of Aldivalloc 



f O Ro> 's v 
{ lassie w 



method, it is like the grating screw 
;is my taste; if I am wrong I beg 



that it would make an 


subj.-ct' 










though the few we have 








an unparalleled c ir.p, 




and bis cutty gun* is t 




By the way, are you not 


quae vra 






tainly were, who corop 




lyrics, should be unki 










sh ; 1 co 


yesterday^for aa air I lit 


e much- 






Contented wi' little and 


cantie wi 


Whene'er I forgather w 


' £ ° rr ° w 



Tune — " Roy's wife 
Chorus. 



Is this thy faithful swain's reward— 
An aching, broken heart, my Katy ? 






B " 


Wad wring my bosom shouldst thou leave me 


I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome 




But man is a sedger, and life is a faught : 














And when ibis heart proves fause to thee, 








Stay, my Willie, &c. 


A towinondo' trouble, should that be my fa'. 




A night o' guid fellowship sowtliers it a' : 


But to think I was belray'd, 




That falsehood e'er our love should sunder, 


Wha the diel ever thinks o' the road he has 


To take the flow 'ret to my breast, 




And find the guilefu' serpent under ! 




Stay, my Willie, &c. 


Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on 






Could I hope thou'dst ne'er deceive, 


Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jad gae : 






I'd slight, nor seek in other spheres 




ihal heaven I'd find within thy bosom. 


My warst word is-' Welcome and welcome 


Slay, my Willie, &c. 


again 1 


It may amuse the reader to be told, that, on 


If you do not relish the air, I will send it to 


this occasion, the gentleman and the lady have 


Johnson. 


exchanged the dialects of their respective 

■.■!■.." Tile Scottish haivl mitcc l.i= =A. 



BURNS — CORRESPONDENCE. 

Well! I think this, to be done in 
three turns across my room, and with 
three pinches of Irish Blackguard, is 



iss. Yon 



Tery rude instrument. _ It is composed of thn 
bone of a sheep, 'such as you see in a nrattoi 






and notched like that vvhicl 



nd, 'is he 


d L) 


the 


ha- 


L> 


playic 


K- The 


lock has . 










_ on the up] 










-e, i; 






ute. Th 


sof m 


ie, 


;;; 


nisi' 


actly 


an from 












mt.tn 




Ho-.-, ..*r 












rly bored 


n the hoi 










not il 




lowing it 


sht;; 


. f. 








le use of 


t. If .Mr 










il ser 


i him a 


ight of n, 


;-; : 


s 1 




i°V 


nysetf 


to be a 



'oets is nae sin, 1 and, will I say it/that I look 
a Mr Allan and Mr Burns to be the only 
enuine and real painters of Scottish custom in 



No. LXV. 
a THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



2SthNov. 1794. 



I acknowledge, my d. 



s, i i 












quently nihb 


ing at lines and 


couplet 


"ofyou" 


incomparable 


lyrics, for which 




if JO 




me right, you 






me to the de 


il. Onthecou- 


ra.-v, 1, 




ou have all a 




el to in 












be wonderful 


if I have somc- 






self the airs 


of a reviewer. 


-iv.-.r :" 


-,k:.; 


demands un 




ill the 








che/d'a 


■wore. L 


umps ofpudd 


Kg shall certain- 


dress in 


VureE 


glish ; (he r 


ply, on the part 


Df the la 




he Scottish 


lialect, is. if we 


ni,t;.ke 


not, by 


young and b 


autiful English- 



n you find yourself in good s 



I mean to have a picture painted from your 
beautiful ballad, The soldier's return, to be 
engraved for one of my frontispieces. The 
most interesting; point of time appears tome, 
when she recognizes her ain dear Willy, ' She 
gazed, she redden'd like a rose.' The three 
lines immediately following, are no doubt more 
impressive on the reader's feelings ; but were 






■ 
a niche by'thf-ude of" Burns *i ° the^cofus!! 



lipe by the Scottish shepherds, and when, a 

rig and roaring. Af.iendof mine says, 
emembers to have heard one in his young 

hat'the sound wis abom^ablJ ™ ™" ' *' 
Do not, 1 beseech you, return any books. 

No. LSVI. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

Dec 1794. 

ny thing to forward, or add to "the value 
sur book; and as I agree with you that ll 
acobite song, in the Museum, to There' 
n-er be peace till Jamie comes hame, would n 
> well consort with Peter Pindar's exeelle. 
ve-song to the air, I have just framed for yo 

MY NANNIE'S AWA. 



■ds warble welcome in ilka a 
it's delightless— my Nannie's a 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



They mind me o' Nannie—and N 
Thou lav'rock that springs frae th 



I thou, mellow mavis 

night-fa', 
e over for pity — my Nan 



.d laughs at a' that, 
mak a belted knight, 



Alaue can delight me — now Nan 
How does this please yon ? Ai 

lainly be at—' She gazed. ' T 



e higher ranks ih 
Then let us pray that 



No. LXVIL 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
January, 1795. 
1 fear for my songs ; however, a few may 



ualit, is 



; style, disa 



; K.r 

thef 


Dt give you 
, but merelv 
the piece is' 
Wowing do f 


the foregoing song for 
by way of trice laba^a- 
ot really poetry. Hew 
or Craigie-burn mod 1 


A ml 
ut a' 
Can 


Fa's the eve 
blythe awak 
the pride o' 
ield me noc 


n Craigie-burn, 
pring's return 





If thou refuse to pity ir 



lowed, I think, to be two or three pretti good 
prose thoughts, inverted into rhyme. 

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. 

Is there for honest poverty 



Farewell ! God bless you. 



The man's the gowd for a' that. 
What though on namely fare we c 
G.'e fools their silks, 'and knaves' 



BURNS.— CORRESPONDENCE. 



No. LXVIIL 


The sweetest flower that 
Now trodden like the vil 


MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 


Let simple maid the lessc 
The weird may be her 


Edinburgh, ZOtli Jan. 1795. 


I tell you no 


I thank you heartily for Nannie's awa, as well 


The bird that charm'd hi 
Is now the cruel fowler's 

How aft he 

Itelijoun 

I do not know whether 


as fur Craizi, bum, which 1 tli.uk a very come- 
ly pair. Your observation on the difficulty of 

same style, strikes me very forcibly ; aud it has 
again and again excited my wonder to find you 
continually surmounting this difficulty, in the 



No. LXIX. 

MR BURNS TO .MR THOMSON. 

February, 1 795. 

ere is another (rial at your favourite air. 

Time—* Let me in this ae night. ' 

->■• love has bound me hand and foot, 



>wer that deck'd the mead, 



Thou hear'st the wi 
Nae star blinks tbro 
Tak pity on my wea 



CAorus. 
.is ae night, 

;e thTs ae night, 



The bitter blast that round m 
Unheeded howls, unheeded f 
The caulduess o' thy heart's 



HER ANSWER. 

O tell na me o' wind and rain, 



I tell you now this 



The snellest blast at mirkest hoars, 

That round the pathless wand'rer po 

la nought to what poor she endures 

That's trusted faithless man, jo. 

I tell you now, &c. 



No. LXX. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
Ecclefechan, T.h February, 1795. 






superable bare. To 



the hands of a butcher", and thinks himself, on 
that very account, exceeding good company. 



and deed,) 1, of t, 
rrote you yesterda; 



'slowishfmf .cw 
bould think It worthy ot 



r p U re a senUrave d no 

nair to yon town ? °J 
■A with it ; ant 



No. LXXI. 
MR THOMSON TO .MR Bl'BNS. 

25th February, 1735. 

ir, for two 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



U fur O teat ye tcha's in yon I 



No. LXXIL 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



Time—' Where'U bonnie Annie lie 

Or, ' Loch-Erroch Side. ' 

O stay, sweet. warbling woodlark, sta 
Nor quit for me the trembling spray, 
A helpless lover courts thy lay, 
Thy soothing fono complaining. 

Again, again that tender part, 
That I may catch thy melting art : 
Fur surely that wad touch her heart, 
Wha kills me wi' disdaining. 



Stay, was thy little ma 
And heard thee as the < 



Thou tells o' ne 

O' speechless gr 

Fur pity's sake, 

Or my poor h. 

Letm 



w your very first leis 



ON CIILORIS BEING ILL. 
Time— ' Aye wakin'. ' 

Long, long the night. 

Heavy comes the morrow, 
While iiiy soul's delight, 
Is on her bed of sorrow. 

Can I cease to care. 

White my'd^ling faf™ ' 
Is on the couch of anguish? 
Long, &c 

Every hope is fled. 

Every fear is terror ; 
Slumbe'r e'en 1 dread, 

E L? n g d .Tc , . i9h0rr0r ' 



How do you like the foregoing ? The Irish 
air, " Humours of Glen, " is a great favourite 
of miue, and as, except the silly stuff in the 
« Poor Koldier,' there are not any deceat 

SONG. 

Tune— « Humours of Glen.' 
Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands 

Where bright-beaming summers exalt the 
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green 

Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow 
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom 

Where the blue bell and gowan lurk lowly 
For there, lightly tripping amaDg the wild 

A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. 

Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny 

And cauld ' Caledonia's blast on the wave; 
Their sweej-scente 



i slav 



hey? The 



s that skirt ll 



He wande 
Save Lo 



5 spicy forests, and gc 

3 Caledonian views will 
i as free as the winds of 

'e's willing fetters, the c 
SONG. 



Tune—' Ladd 
Twas na her bonny bl 
Twas the" dear smile 



Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me ; 
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide m 
But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sev 

Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest, 
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dee 
And thou'rt the angel ■'--■ 



notion would falter. 



Let me hear from jou. 



No. LXXIII. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



BURN9 — CORRESPONDENCE 

Lovely as yonder s' 



"the y CoUCT''s Saturday 5 Night' ^'"in a 
opinion, one of the happiest productions 



Burns finds you out among th 
rpress the feeling of admiratio 



• Chlori 
of these 
' Laddi, 



Ionia,' and yo> 

i' illness.' Every repeaieu perusa 

jives new delight. The other song t 

very pleasing. 



No. LXXIV. 
MRBTJRNS TO MR THOMSON. 

ALTERED FROM AN OLD ENGLISH SOX' 

Air — ' John Anderson my jo.' 

How cruel are the parent9 

Who riches only prize. 

And to the wealthy booby, 



SONG. 
Tune—' Deil tak the w 



And feel through e 
Well this is not a 



a little of the intc 
ause.it will raise yo 
3Z y to any height ye 



No. LXXV. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
May, 1794. 
Ten thousand thanks, for your elegant presen' i 
though I am ashamed of the value of it, bem-; 
bestowed on a man who has not by any 
means merited such an instance of kindness. 



break up the parcel (I v 
day) knew it at once. IV 
pl.ments to Allan, who 1 



who is making the ft 
cat's tail, is the most 
"ill-deedie, dami 
chin" of mine, wl 
witty wickedness and 

BVe " ^g' fell. 



:, from that propensity t< 



Itr X.c, 



,e of the . 






No. LXXVI. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



The chance 
iow, whose promi 
very early, and s 

quaiated with tha 



Bed with Mr Allan's r 



enough. I am ac- 
i, who is a prodigy of 
d a pleasant fellow, 



You really make me blush when you tell me 
you have not merited the drawing from me. 

into the spirit of my undertaking, which could 



: a fine pathetic a 
d of * William a: 



No. LXXYIL 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

In ' Whistle and I'll come to ye, my lad, 

Here goes what I think is an improvement. 

O whistle trad I'll come to ye, my lad ; 
O whistle and I'll come to ye, my lad; 
Tho' father and mother, and a' should gae 

Thy Jeany will venture wi' ye, my lad. 

In fact, a fair dame at whose shrine, I, the 
Priest of the Nine, offer up the incense of 



and dispute her conim; 



SONG. 

is is no my ain House. 



O this b no, &c. 



And aye it charms my very saul, 
The kind love that's iu her e'e, 



Do you know that you have roused the tor- 
pidity of Clarke at last ? He has requested 
me to write three nr four songs for him, which 
he is to set to music himself. The inclosed 



whether I am right ; but that song pleases mi 
md as it is extremely probable "the Clarke 

imothered in the fogs of indulgence, if yc 



■ ,.jr,.z it 



' that 
* I hare be 



TO MR CUNNINGHAM. 
SCOTTISH SONG. 

Now spring has clad the groves in gr* 



The fun 



- 



r. fo,t 



it within yon wimpling bur 

i swift, a silver dart, 

i beneath the shady thorn 



Has scorch'd my fountains c 
The little flow'ret's peaceful 1 



And blighted 
VycLhTn 



ivaken'd lav'rock warbling springs, 
d climbs the early sky, 

be ber dewy wings 
morning's rosy eye, 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 






No. LXXVIII. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
Edinburgh, 3d Aug. 1795. 



SCOTTISH SONG. 
O bonny was you rosy brier, 



How pure, araaog the leaves sae green ; 
They witness'd in their shade yestreen. 



rhe pathless wild, and n 
YVi' Chloris in my am 

Vnd I the world, nor wis 
Its joys and griefs aliki 

nthe 



a copy of the 



mofmypoe 

l so many fictitious rever.es or p.is-iuii, 
the most ardent sentiments of real 
), I have so often sung under the name 

ihip's pledge, my young, fair friend, 



' The moraliz'ingmuse. 


end 


Since thou, in all thy vout 
Must bid the world adieu 

(A world 'gainst peace in 
fo join the friendly tew. 


h and eh 



Since life's gay scenes mast charm r 
Still much is left behind ; 

, The comforts of the mind I 

Thine friendship's truest heart. 
The joys refined of sense and taste 

These joys could he improve, 

Une bagatelle de I'amitie. 



My eyes have just been gladde 


led, and my 






easant things indeed. What ai 




yours ! It is superfluous to 




am delighted with all the thr 




ell as your elegant and tender ve 


rses to Chlo- 


I am sorry you should be induce 


d to alter • 




lad,' to the 


rosaicline, • Thy Jeany will've 


iture wi' ye. 








s or sings so 


ell as the former. I wish, tl 


erefore, you 






eany, whoever she be, to let the 




naltered.w 




I should be happy to see Mr CI 




few songs to be joined to your v 








ody acknowledges his ability to 






coolly before 






owl of punch wuh the bard ! 




I shall not fail to give Mr Cunn 




oil have sent him. 




F. S The lady's ' For a* tha 




sensible enough, but no more to 




your's than 1 to Hercules. 





No. LXXTX. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

ENGLISH SONG 

Tune—" Let me in this ae night." 

imfort near, 



ir from thee I w 



-- ill, 



lake not, this is the i 
the lines tc the tune c 



Vnd 


r,„ m 


scowls a wintry sk 

r, shade, nor home 
these arms of thine, 
ert, &c. 


id joy 

have i, 
love. 


Cole 

:, 

A 


, olte 

id say 
Oh 


•d friendship's crue 
fortune's ruthless d 
hreak thy faithful 
that fate is mine, 1 
ert, &c. 


*T rt 


But 


d me a 7 


though the momen 


.B«t. 




only 


ray of solace sweet 





DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

Cuess ye how the jad I could bear her, eouU 
Guess ye how the jad I could bear her. 
■week as I fretted wi' care, 



How do you like the foregoing ? I havi 
written it within this hour : so much for ths 
speed of my Pegasus j but what say you to his 



No, LXXX. 

R BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

SCOTTISH BALLAD. 

Tune -'The Lothian Lassie.' 

oer came down the lat 
ve he did deave me ; 



:t May 



The deuce gae wi m, to believe me, believ 

The deuce trie wi'm, to believe me. 

He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black e'en, 

I said'he might die what he liked for Jean, 
The Lord forgi'e me for lying, for lying, 
The Lord forgi'e me for lying 1 



But thought I might hae waur offers, w 

But thought I might hae waur offers. 

But what wad yon think ! in a fortnight or 1< 



The de il tak 


is taste 


o gae near h 


r ! 


He up the lang 1 


oan to m 


y black cousit 


Bess,* 


* In the origi 


rial MS. 


this line rur 


s, 'He 


up the Gateslack 






Bess :' 


Mr Thomson obi 


cted to 






to the word • Da 


garnock 


in the next ve 


rse. Mr 


Burns replies as 


■ 












r place, 






ng the Lauth 














of a ro 






Nith, where ar 




uined churc 






Howev 


er, let the fi 








• &c, 






pity to 




y thing 


that gives locality to our 


eel's verses. 





glowre 



is I'd 






And von'd I was his dear lassie. 

I spear'd For my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, 
Gin she had recover'd her hearin, 

And how her new shoon lit her auld shaclilet 
feet, 
But heavens l how he fell a swearin, a 

But heaven's ! how he fell a swearin. 

He begged for Gudesake ! I wad be his wif*i 

I think I maun wed him to-morrow. 

FRAGMENT. 

Tune—' The Caledonian Hunt a delight. 

Why, why tell thy lover. 

V enjoy.! 



O why, while fancy, raptured slumber 
Chloris, Chloris all the theme, 

Why. why wouldst thou, cruel, 
Wake thy lover from his dream. 



Such is the peculiarity of the rhythm of t> 



No. LXXXL 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 

3d June, 179 5. 

Your English verses to 'Let me in this ae 
night,' are tender and beautiful; and your 
ballad to the ' Lothian Lassie' is a master nu ce 
mom and naivete. The fragment for 
the ' Caledonian hunt' is quite suited to the 

rather,' as I said before, have had Bacchanalian 

less for what we have received, Lord make u; 
thankful. 



BURNS. -CORRESPONDENCE. 



No. LXXXIT. 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
5JA February, 179 



Ihe pause you h 
fall Am I never 
know and I lam. 






h yon have been 



urged by 
of all our 
nbellisbed 



No. LXXXIII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
February, 1796. 

Many thanks, my dear sir, for your hand- 

ToT^ r!mJJngT\ume of Prplndar!- 
Peter is a delightful fellow/and a first favour- 

octavo with etchings. I am extremely willing 

Irish airs I shall "cheerfully undertake the ta a l 
of finding verses for. 

I have already, yon know, equipped thret 

kind of rhapsodv to another Hibernian melody : 
which I admire" much. 

HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER. 

Tune— « Balinamona Ora.' 
Awa wi' your^witcheraft o' beauty's alarms, 



a tocher, then hey fo» 
a* tocher ; the nice yel- 



The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when pos- 

But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie im- 

The langer ye irate them— the mair they're ca. 

° Then, hey, &e. 

If this will do, yon have now four of my 

Irish engagement. In my bye past songs, I 

dislike one thing : the name Chloris— I meant 

it as the fictitious name of a certain lady : 



gant description of beauty. —Of this also again. 
— God bless you !* 

No, LXXXIV. 

MR THOxMSON TO MR BURNS. 

Your " Hey for a lass wi* a tocher" is a 
most excellent song, and with you the subject 
is something new indeed. It is the first lime 
1 have seen you debasing the god of soft de. 

I am happy to find you approve" of my pro- 

my choice of them for that work. Indepen- 
dently of the Hoganhiar " 
they abound, they exhi 

b°e felicity. In this respect he himself sa 
they wilL/ar exceed the aquatinta plates he d 

etching, he sees clearly what he is doing ; b 
not so with the aquatinta, which he could n 



No. LXXXV. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

April, 1796. 
Mas, my dear Thomson, I fear it will be som 
lime ere I tune my lyre again ! "By Babe 
streams I have sat and wept. »' almost ever sine 
1 wrote you last ; I have only known existenc 



Ilk spring they 're new deck 
yowes. 






* Our poet i 
vould have so 
iv Mr Thomso, 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY, 



«' Say wherefore has an all-indulgen 
Light to the comfortless and wretche 

This will be delivered to you 1 
Hyslop, landlady if the Globe tav 



highly delight. 

Woo'd and r 

le! The grouping is beyond 



all praise. 


The expression of the figures, con- 






jeSMei 


formable t 


j the story in (he ballad, is absolute. 










perfection. I next admire ' Turn- 


Igue 


s by the dear angel smile, 






What Hike least is, -Jenny said 


Ig 


ess by the love-rolling e'e 




to Jockie. 


Besides the female being in her 


Bm\ 


hy urge the tender confess 






. . . . if you take her stoop- 


'Ga 






ing inlo th 


e account, she is at least two inches 
her lover. Poor Cleghorn ! I sin- 




Here's a health, &c* 




eereiy syra 


pathize with him. Happy I am to 








think tba 


he has a well-grounded hope of 








health and 


enjoyment in this world. As for me 




No. LXXXVIII. 




— but that 


is a . . . . subject ! 









No. LXXXV 
MR THOMSON TO MR BURNS. 
Uh Nay, 1796. 



Than augh 
Here's 



MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 
This will be delivered by a Mr Lew 



'"!>■'•"• 






No. LXXXVII. 
MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 



long admi 


ed, • He 


e'e a 1 


eallhtothem that's 










air to your 


'IBl 


"once" 


en trying to suit it 
ve to recommend the 



I will thank you for 
-s.t load rather 

I have great hopes that the 

; to righis, but as yet I cannot boast 

I ruy complaint is a flying gout ; a 

e know how Cleghorn is, and re- 



ike much to hear fro 



very poorly,! 



should 



No. LXXXIX. 

MR BURNS TO MR THOMSON. 

12th July, 1796. 
After all my boasted independence, cursed necf 
A cruel of a haberdasher, 



Here's a health (o ane I lo'e dear, ', supposed our poet ha 



did not live to perform 



.d that by 



eese, and will Infallibly pi 
f r God's sake, seed met! 

but the horrors of aiail have mad? me half dis- 
tracted. I do not Sk all this gratuitously ; foi 
upon returning health, I hereby promise and 

seen. I : 



BURNS CORRESPONDENCE. 

by Mrs Hyslop, 1 ha 
what manner! eou'd 

j m- s.iftVrings. Agai. 



ried my 1 
ng. The 
ossible t 
hey are c 


measure is to diffic 
infuse much geni 




SONG. 




rioie—' Rothiem 


Fa 


rest maid on Devo 



for the frankness of your letter of the 12th, and 
with great pleasure inclose a draft for the very 
sum I proposed sending. Would I were the 
Chancellor of the Exchequer but for one day, 



1 your melancholy letter 



from Edinburgh. But 
lind began to be at times 
rrorsofajaii p.rpetu-.lly 



APPENDI X. 



ay gratify curiosity to know some particulars of the history of the preceding Poems, on 



;r of Gilbert Burns, the brother of our Poet, a 



Mossgid, 2d April, 1798. 
DEAR SIR, 

Your letter of the 14th of March I receive 



none of them, except ' Winter, a Dirge' (which 
Dying words of poor Mailie, ' and some of the 
The circumstances of the poor sheep were rret- 
partly by way of frolic, bought a ewe and two 
in a Lid adjoining the 'house at Loculie. He 



ewe had entangled herself in 
s lying in the ditch. Rob- 
led with Hughnc's appear- 



ie plough 



rights, and when w 



' death and dying words' pretty 

< EpTstle" to DaT 
witnout any regi 
made a strong 



at 


eived by p 


, if not su 


sle; that I 


!;-",: 


Al- 


la. 






ind that tht 
















ia e J 






iifKhe 


the knack 


f'di 






ssion_bu 






in o 
















Ian 


f uage sea 


eelyseeme 


d aBecled, b 






ed 


o be then 


w ral cer D tf 


jage of the r 








des, there 










poet pointing 


out the co 


- 


it we 


e in 



: author first ret 
le Deil. ' The ci 



:e. « Death am 
iblished in the I 
iced early in i] 



he year 1785. The school- 
on parish, to eke up the scan- 
owed to that useful class of 
p of grocery goods. Having 



Robert 



iny : ue 



ced. It was, I think, 
m in the interval of hat 
were weeding in the g: 



ibody the thought in 

d concludinz stan- 
often 



gotashop-billp 
overlooking his 



n;(kail- dan 
principal part Bcri 
the first idea of Rob- floa 



These circumstances h 



snt is a very portal 

iout's house ; hencs 
ing, or with the ro 



one, and well fit- 
n of meeting iu a 
ie phrase of ' going 



when we had twelve or fifteen young people 
with their rocks, -that Lapraik's song, begin- 



le plough: 
e plough 



might be brought 



indebted for the • Cotter's Saturday Night. ' 
The hint of the plan, and title of the poem, 
were taken from Fergussoi 'a Farmer's Ingle. 



' The Tale of Twa Dogs* was composed after 
the resolution of publishing was nearly taken. 
Robert had a dog, which he called Luath, 
that was a great favourite. The dog had been 



d that he hi 
to" the Men 



i for the purpose of hoi 
rourite Luath. The firs 



tseof Dr 

the parish of Loudon, 
lg given up the parish 
L>r Lawrie has several 



guests, mixed in it. It was a delightful t in,!y 

the world. His mind was roused to a poetic 
enthusiasm, and the stanzas, p. 137, were 
left in the Room where he slept. It was to Ur 
Lawrie that Dr Blacklock's letter was addres- 
sed, which my brother, in his letter to Dr 
Moore, mentions as the reason of his going to 
Edinburgh. 

When my father feued his little property 
near Allowaj-Kirk, the wall of the church- 



of the adjoining land, for'liberty to rebuild it, 



b 


otland, stayed sc 


i'ue 


m ■ 




e neighbourhood, 




lCa 




1 of Gle 










The A 






be 


ere " Un 


co pack 
sled of 
e to Ayr 


C:'; 


L.ic' 




drawing 


of All 




-i",' 






e of his 






>'■ 


d a sort 


f claim 


ola 


do 


In 




byway 


of e 






s-.he sc 


neof m 


ny a goc 



3C8 

quest, provided (he poet vpou 
sio.y, to be printed along wi 

was first published in < ' Gro; 
Scotlaad." 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 

lage. Though a rhjmi 



impulses of the 
;, perhaps the partiality, of friend- 



Tbe 



ading c 



can be well attested by 
jeople in that ne ghbou 



andfalig 


lie fe 


•f 


'in ] 


■f a world 
th 10 the 


always a 


'°''" 


ves for co 




ih. 




und poetry 




tsc 


wnr 



was accordingly produced ;) - Ordii 
'The Address to the Unco Guid ;' 
Samson's Elegy ;' ' AWinier Night ; ' 



t at the thought o 


f being branded 


inent blockhead 


obtruding his 


to jingle a few 


oggerel Scotch 




a himself as a 


11 consequence fo 






celebrated poet 


oose divine elegit 














fame!' If an, 


at the word • gen 




for .all, that he 




is possessed of some poetic abili- 


s his publishing 






uvre below the 


er which he h 




erghehim. Bu 


to the genius 


or the glorious dawnings of the 


ate Ferguson, h 


e, «ilh equally 



Bar. scorns' 'When C.iloford Guid ; ' '. 
hind yon hills where Stinchar flows ;' • Gr 
grow the Rashes;' 'Again rejoicing Nat 
sees;' 'The gloomy Mght;' « No Chur 



PREFACE lO THE FIRST EDITION 

Or BURKS'S POFMS PUBLISHED AT 

K1LJIARK0CK. 



v. ish of ev'< 
ed. Hebe, 

for educati 
if after a fi 
" e shall s 



Dji CURBIE, Liverpool. 



To this history of the poems which are a 
tained in this volume, it ma; be added, t 
our author appears to have made little alte 
tioQ in them after their original compositi 






s genius. Th< 
r, arising from 
oners, may, in 



not, like men of genius born under happie 






i confirmed, and tie im. 
which written la: 
hed after it has fa 



Erskine, a spunkie Noreland Billie, 

there appears, in his book of manuscripts, the 
a.iowiug :_ 

i'oee, sodger Hugh, my wa:chman stented 

Ye 'd lend your hand, 
But when there's ought to say anent it. 
Ye're at a stand. 

• Sodger Hugh' is evidently the present Earl 
of Eglinton, then Colonel Montgomery o< 
CoilsJield, and representing in Parliament the 
county of Ayr. Why this was left out in 
printing, does not appear. The 



e this 



: of i.i:. 



aired, and whose tale he lamented. 
in ' The Address to the Dei!,' the seven 
i, in page 17G, ran originally thus : 



APPENDIX, 

And Eve was like my bonnie Jean, 

My dearest part, 
A dancin', sweet, young, ^handsome que; 

on poor Mailie, the 

She was nae get o' moorland tips, 

She was nae get o' runted rams, 

Wi' woo' like goals, and legs like trams ; 

She was the flower o' Fairlie lambs, 

A famous breed ; 
Now Robin, greetin, chows the hams 

O Mailie dead. 

'.t were a pity.that the Fairlie lambs should lose 



1792. Of the poem written in Friar's Car; 
Hermitage there are several editions, and ot 

printed poem but the four first lines. Tl 
poem that is published, which was his secon 
effort on the subject, received considerable al 



anuscript the following are inserted, 

Stay ; the criterion of their fate, 
Th' important query of their state, 
Is not, art thou high or low ? 
Did thy foriune ebb or flow f 
"Wert thou cottager or king ? 
Prince or peasant ?— no such thing. 



raLiea 



.: y, L- 



of Correspondence. This 

nore° trouble than his Scoltish poetrv. On 

ry, ' Tam o' Shanter seems to have 

:ct from the author's brain. The 

July considerable alteration made on reflection 

s the omission of four lines, which had been 

md of the dreadful catalogue of the' articles 
bund on the ' haiy table,' aud which appear- 
!d in the first edition of the poem, primed sepa- 
rately. They came after the siiih line from 



Which even to nam( 
id are as follow : 

Three lawyers' tongue 



DIAMOND CABINET LIBRARY. 



And priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck j 


While summer, win a matron's glace, 




Walks stately in the cooling shade ; ' 




And oft delighted lo es to trace 




The progress of the spiky blade ; 




While autumn, benefactor kind. 




With age's hoary honours clad, 


excited, were very properly ieft out of the print- 
ed collection, by the advice of Mr Fraser 


Surveys, with self-approving mi„d, 


Each creature on his bounty ted, &c 


Tytler; to which Bums seems to have paid 






By the alteration in the printed poem, it m 




be questioned whether the poetry is much i 


6. ' The Address to the shade of Thomson ,' 


proved ; the poet however has found means 


page 217, began in the manuscript copy m ihe 


introduce the shades of Dryburgh, theresiden 


following manner: 








While cold-eyed Spring, a virgin coy, 




Unfolds her verdant mantle sweet. 


These observations might be extended, b 




what are already offered will satisfy curiusil 


A carpet for her youthful feet : 


and there is nothing ol any importance th 
could he added. 



GLOSSARY. 



The ch and gh have always the guttural sound. The sound of (he English diphthong oo, is ton 
monly spelled ou. The French u, a sound which often occurs in the ocottUk "laiigu^e, 

followed by e mute after a single consonant, sounds generally like the broaJ~English a in 7i'a 
The Scottish diphthong ■*, always, and ea, very often, sound like the French, e uiasculm 
The Scottish diphthong ey, sounds like the Latin eu 



Aff, off; Affloof, u 
Afore, before. 
Aft, oft. 



Airn ; iron. ' 



Anilher, another. 

Ase, ashes. 

Asklent, asquint ; aslant, 



Bad, did bid. 
Baide, endured, did I 
Baggie, the belly. 
Banie, having large 1 



irefit, barefooted, 
irmie, of, or like barm, 
itch, a crew, a gang, 



eet, to add fuel to fire. 

-Id, bald. 

elyve, by and by. 

en, into the spence or parlou 


r; aspe 


ethankit, grace after meat. 




cker, a kind of wooden dish 
el or Bield, shelter, 
en, wealthy, plentiful. 


; a shor 


ggin, building; a house. 




if, a' bull." 

Hie, a brother ; a young fe! 

ng, a heap of grain, potaloe 


r&* 



n-shaw, Biichen-wood-shavi 



Blastie, a shrivelled 
Blastit, ' 



BURNS. -GLOSSARV, 

Brither, a brol 
Brock, a badgi 
Brogue, a hun 



:, bashful, sheepish. 



any think ; t 
with rheum. 



Bleth'rin', 

Blink, a lil 

kindly ; 



Blype, a 
Bock, to ^ 



er, a stupid p 
a large piece. 



bed. von 
all gold cc 



ie or Bonny, handsome, 
ock, a kind of thick 
all jannock, or loaf mad' 

tree, the shrub elder ; 
in hedges of bam-vard; 
t, behaved, „mi 



u ill..- 1 



all. 



"■;P. 



iking. 



Brackens, fern, 
Brae.adeclivtty; 

Braid, broad. 



eeled forward, 
o run rashly forwi 



:jrau] 




or B 


awlie, 


Ilea 


lily 














::.- e a. 






live of bre 


:;i-.as 








Jreok 








Xireuf, 






rable or i 



itane, brimstone, 
et, the breast, the be 



i, ale-house wives. 



t, did bun 
lo burst 



Bucban.bullers, the boiling of the sea 

the rocks of Buchan. 
Buckskin, an inhabitant of Virginia. 
Bught, a pen, 

Bughtin-time, the time of collecting tl 
''--Dens to be milked. 



nthet 



^^ 



•, fresh ; sound ; refreshing, 
lie, dexterously ; gently.' 



Cartes, 


cards. 






, a caldro 




Cauk an 


d keel, ch 


Ik and red clay. 


Cauld, 






Caup, a 




nking vessel. 


Cesses, 






Chanter 




a bagpipe. 


Chap, a 


person, a 


ellow ; a blow. 


Chaup, 




blow, 



>r Cheel, a young fellow. 



Chimla or Cliimlie, a fire-grate, a fire-plac 

Chinils.lug, the fireside. 

Chittering, shivering, trembling. 

Chockin, choking-. 

Chow, to chew : Cheek for chow, side by si 

Chuffie, fat-faced, 

a small village about a church 



hanil 



irClae 



GLOSSARY. 

Crack, conversation ; to converse 

Crackin, conversing. 

Craft, or croft, a field near a 

husbandry), 
Craiks, cries or calls incessantly 
Crambo-clink or Crambo-jingle, 



Craw, the crow of a 



Clae, to 
Clauted 


:;"-- 


!fto 


sera 


rid hold of. 


' ' 


io> 










)scr 


atch. 






Cleeds, 


clothes!' 






Cleekit, 


hav 




right. 




Clinkin 










Clinkurc 




hew 


hon 




Clips, s 










Clishma 




r, id' 






Clock, 




eh ; 


i beetle. 


Clockin 


ha 


ching 






Cloot, the he 


of of 




, sheep, * 








met' 


the devil. 


Clour, a 






well 




Cluds, clone 








Coaxin 




ediir, 






Coble, a 


fish 


rogbo 







Coft, bought. 

Cost, a wooden dish. 

Coggie, diminutive of cog. 

Coila, from Kyle, a district of Avrshi'e ; 

called, saiih tradition, from Coil, or Coilu 

a Pictish monarch. 
Collie, a general and sometimes a particul 

Collieshangie, quarrelling, an uproar. 



Coof, a blockhead, nmny. 

Cookit, appeared and disappeared by fits. 

Coot, the ancle or foot. 

fowls whose legs are clad with feathers a: 

Corbies, a species "of the crow. 

C^rn'd C ,°fed wnhoa'ts? *"' 

Cotter, the inhabitant of a cot-house, or co 



lo keep under, to lop ; t 



Cozie, snug. 
Coziely, snuglv. 
Crabbit, crabbed, fret 



dk4 




bull 






Croon 
Crone 


ng, humming. 
lie, crook backed 




Cross- 


, cheerful ; conr 






ly, cheerfully ; c 


ourageously. 








ed « 


ater, sometimes from the broth of 




on, &c 






le-time, breakfas 




CrowL 






Crommock, a cow with crooked horns. 




, hard and brittl 






a blow on the he 




Cui;, 


i blockhead, a ni 






ock, a short staff 


with a crooked he 


'J.iroh 


e, a courtesy. 


. 



a well known game c 



Cutty, short ; a spoon broken in the middle. 
Cutty-stool, the stool of repentance. 



DADDIE, a father. 
Damn, merriment ; foolis 
Daft, merry, giddy ; fool 



Dainty, pleasant, good hi 
Daise or Daez, to stupify 
Daks, plains, valleys! 
Daxklins, darkling. 
Daud, to thrash, to abusf 



Dawtit or D 
Dearias, din 
Dearthfu', d 



BURNS.-GLOSSARY. 



or Dizz'n, 



tremulous stroke c 



Doucely, soberly, pri. 
Dought, was or were 
Doup, backside. 



Drouki" 



Drummock, mea 



Dub, a small pond, 
iiuds, rags, clothes. 
Daddie, ragged. 
Dung, worsted ; pushed, 
Dunted, beaten, boxed. 



e, frighted, d 
ok, tbee'lbo* 



Enbrugh, Edinburgh. 
Eneugb, enough. 
Especial, especially. 



FA', fall ; 
Fa's, does 
Faddom't, 





, frighiful. 




Fecht, 


frighted. 




to tight. 




lechl! 


a, fighting. 




Feck, 


quantity, plenty 




Fecke 




coat with slee 


Fe,;f 


', large, brawn 




iv.kit 


ss, puny, weak 


silly. 


Fccv: ; 






Feg, a 


fllTel'mit 




Fe.Je, 






Feire, 




healthy. 




een, biting; th 


flesh immed 




he skin ; a field 


pretty level, o 


or lop of a bill. 




Fen, s 


uccessful strngg 


e; fight. 


Fend, 


to lire comforta 


bly. 


Ferlie 


or Ferley, to 






of contempt. 




Fetch 


to puil by fits. 




Fetch 






: . ■ 


to fidget. 




F,e.", s 






F.ei.t, 




th. 


Fier, 




a brother ; fr 


Fissle 


to make a rui 


tliDg noise; 



iailering. 

re to frighten, 



BUllxNS.-GLOSSARY. 



Forgfe, tr'forgu'e!'' 
IVj=,!:et, jaded with falig! 
Foluer, fodder. 
Fou, full ; drunk. 
Foughten, troubled, harass 



Foutl 
Fow, a 



el. &c; 



Fyl't, soiled, dirtied. 

G 

Gab, the mouth ; to speak boldly, or pertly. 
Gaberlunzie, an old man. J P _ 

horses in the pfough.' 



Gear, riches'; go, ds of any k ! nd. 

Ged.a'pike! 

Gentles, great folk, gentry. 



(il.iU i 


M, aimed, sna 


tched. 


Gleck, 

', !p -' 


rlebe.' 




Glen',' 






G side 


wrong"' ' '° 


squint ; 


i;ii!.'-g 


bbet, smooth and read 


Glint, 






G inte 


, peeped. 




Glintin 


• P«eplng. 




Gloam 


n, thetwi.bl 




ulowr 




ok ; a st 


Glowr 


d, looked, sta 


ed. 



weed 


.V 










Gowan 


, d 




















Gowff, 
does 


',':: 


go 


r a e tgoif.° 


sir 


ke 








ck. 










c. 








Gowl, 


ol 










Grane, 






n, a groan; to 


grc 






ai 


de 


runted, groans 


da 






S» 










Graip, 




?' 






for 














Graith 






trements, furn 




e, d 


t.ranni 




ra 


dmother. 







; to bear tiie gree, !o b 



!, loathsomely grii 

gooseberry. 

a grunt , to grun 



ndVuidwil'. the , 



Guid-father, guid-niother, fa;t 



BURNS GLOSSARY. 



Haffet, the temple, the side of the h. 
Hafflins, nearly half, partly. 
Hag, a scar, or gulf in mosses, and 
Haggis, a kind of pudding boiled i 



hopping, 
arkenei' 



at of turf at the 
31st of October. 



p and leap. 



Hawkie, a 
Heapit, hea 



Heather, heath. 



&c 

Heeze, to elevate, 1< 
Helm, the rudder cr 
Herd, to tend flocks 
Herrin, a herring 
Herry, jt o plunder ; : 

Hers"e™herself'°riso T E 
Het, hot. 

Hilch, 'a hobble; to 
Hilchin, halting. 



le who tends flocks. 
it properly to plunder 



Hiney, honey. 






Hing, to hang. 






Hirple, lo walk era 


ily, to creep. 




Hissel, so many ca 


tie as one person c 


n at- 


Hasiie, dry; chapp 


d ; barren. 




Hitch, a loop, a kn 






Hizzie, a hussy, a 


oung girl. 




HoJdin, the motion 


ofasagecountryma 


nrid- 




e; humLle. 






f distance line, in cu 


rling, 




ink. 




Hog-shouther, a kin 


d of horse play, by it 


slling 


with the shoulder 


; to jostle. 




Hool, outer skin or 


case, a nut shell; a 


pease. 



Hoord, a hoard ; to I 
Hoordit, hoarded. 
Horn, a spoon made < 



d topsyturvy ; blended, m 

utive of house. 
■, to swell. 
, swelled. 

"'a hollow or dell. 

unk in the Lack, spoken 

ng house; a house of resoi 



i amble crazily. 
diminutive of Hugh. 
i, a hedgehog, 
the loms ; the crupper. 



at-grandchild. 
each, every, 
-natured, malici 



Ingle, fire; fire-plac 



BLRNS.—GLOSSARY. 



Keckle, log.ggle; to titter. 
Keek, a peep, to peep. 
Kelpies, a sort of miscbievo 



up the clothes. 
; Kin', kind, (a-ijO 



Kith, kindred. 
Kittle, totick:e; tie! 
Kiltlin, a young cat. 
Kmttle, to cuddle. 
Kiuttlir., cuddling. 

Knappin-hammeV,' ; 

Knowe.'a small r.u. 
Knurl, a dwarf. 
Kve, cows. 
Kyle, a district in A 
Kyte, the belly. 
Kythe, to discover; 



Lane, 1, 



:iadofsbell-fish, a limpit. 

i my lane, thy lane, &c. myse 



Lanely, lonely. 

Lang, long ; To think 1 

Lap, did leap. 



Leal, loyal, true, faithful. 
Lea-rig, grassy ridge. 
Lear, (pronounced larej, le; 





l, tripping. ^ 


I. inn, 




Lint, 




Linti 


, Limwhite, a 


Lintw 




L..un 


or loanin, the 


Loof, 


the palm of the 


I I, 


did let. 


Loove 


s, plural of loo 


Lou., 










jump, leap. 


J.OV-F 




Low. 
i owr 


, flaming, 
e, abbreviation 


Low, 




l.nw = 


d, loosed. 



BURNS.— GLOSSARY. 



Wanted, a mantle. 

Mark, marks. (This and several other 
which in English require ao s, to foi 
plural, are in Scottish, like the words 



Wind! 


n, a dunghill!' 






root. 


Ni i.J. 
hill 


n-hole, a gutter « 


t the bottom of a dung 


P. 


trick, a partridge. 


Mini, 


prim, affectedly 


meet. 


Pa 




Wi,.\ 






Pa 




Wind 


t, mind it ; reso 


ved, intending. 


Pa 


ritch, oatmeal pudding, 



Moistify, to m 
Mony, or Mon 
Wools, dust, < 



Norland, of 01 
Notic't, notici 
Nowte, black 



belonging to the north. 



Pattle, or Penle, a plough-staff. 
Paughty, proud, haughty. 
Pauky, or Pawkie, cunning, sly. 



se, fair speeches, flattery ; to flatter. 

sin, flattery. 

ch, Highland war rr.usic adapted to ll 



Placad, public proclamati 
Plack, an old Scottish coi 

S c °V/fu h . p . e _ n .7» ,welv " 



Pou, o 
Puuk, t 



BURNS CLOSSARY. 



Roopet, hoa 
Routaie, pie 



Ieof neighbomhord. 



RAGWEED, the 1 



Rax, to 
Ream, c 
Reamin; 



Rief, Reef, p'renty. 



Hunt, 
Rath, 


i. 




Rjke, 


: 


reach. 


SAE, 

ban, = 


& 




Sairly, 

Sark, ' 

Sa.klt, 


- 


rhd:' 1 '' 



>g; to loathe. 
] as n hen, pal 

iffftlj alon ? . 



Shackled, distorted ; sh'apeles; 
Siangan, a stick cleft at one 



bellion, A.D. 1715. 



BURNS — GLOSSARY. 



Sk. 


'V';." 


S- 




proacbful 


Sk- 


',',"1; 




p P ; n? , w 


■«■* . ce 


S:-: 


- 


" 


- 












ysbrillj. 


sk 


;i >"- 


,1) 


ieking. 


rying. 


Ski 










6 truth. 






as am, t 


Ski 


snted 




n, or hit 


in an obi 



Slid.: 


did slide. 


Slap. 


agate; a 


Slaver 




Slaw, 


slow. 


Sire, 


1, ; sire: 


Sleeki 


, sleek; s 


Slidd, 




Slype 




plou 


g°- 


: .y ll; . 


, fell. 



Sr 


owk 


to seen 


ors 


uff, a 


s a d. 


-;. *« 










Uflrd. 






So 


:;;" 


having 


swee 


, enga 


<l»ng 


ooks; 


S< 

s, 


ot™; 


ruTh!" 


petty 


oah. 






So 


igi,, 




sigh. 




ddji 




So 


;;■>• 


flexible 
a shoem 




ft. 






So 




al'soure 


made 


of oa 
. fluu 


meal 


the e 



Spaul, a limb. 

Spaviet, having the spa 
Spean, Spane, to wean. 
Speat, or Spate, a swee 

or thaw. 
Speel, to climb. 
Spence, tbecounlry par 



Spior, 



achle, ic 



Sprattle, to scramble. 

Spreckled, spotted, speckled. 

Spritlie.'ful) of spirits. 

Spunkie, rueitlesome, fiery; will o*w 
ignis faluus. 



Slang, an acute pain ; a twinge ; lo sling. 
Stank, did stink; a pool of standing water. 



-GLOSSARY. 

ge, a target. 



stocking; Thro 



it will'be man 



Sloyte, to stumble. 
Strack, did strike. 
Strae, straw ; to die a fai 

a natural death. 
Straik, did strike. 
Siraikit, stroked. 
Strappin, tall and handso 
Straught, straight, to stra 



sturdily; huff, sullenness. 
Stuff, corn or pulse of any kind. 
Sturt, trouble ; to molest. 
Sturtin, frighted. 

Sud, should. 

Sugh, the continued rushing noise of wind c 

Southron, southern ; an old name for th 



rapping young 



Swap, an exehanse ; t 
Swarf, to swoon fas- 
Swat, did sweat 
Swatch, a sample. 
Swats, drink ; good al 



an eddying blast, < 
;, full of knots. 



TACKETS, a kind of nails for drivins intt 

the heels of shoes. 
Tae, a toe ; three-tae'd, having three prongs. 



Tauted, or Tautie, matted log 

of hair or wool. 
Tawie, that allows itself pea 

handled ; spoken of a horse, c 


ther- V oke 
ceably to be 


Teat, a small quantity. 

Tedding, spreading after the mo 

Ten-hours bite, a slight feed 

while in the yoke, in the foren 


l> b °"" 



Tentless, heedless. 

Teugh, tough. 

Thack, thatch; Thack £ 



Thairms, small guts ; fiddle-sirii 
Thankit, thanked. 
Theekit, thatched. 

Themsel, 'themselves. 

Thieveless, cold, dry, spited ; 

person's demeanour. 
Thir, these. 
Thirl, thrill. 

Thirled, thrilled, vibrated. 
Thole, to suffer, to endure. 



Thraw, 

Thrawn 


, spraine 


d, twisted'; 


Threap, 




ain by dint 


Threshi 


a, thrasl 




Thrette 






Thristle 






Throng 
Throutb 


, to go 


mell, co'nfu 


Thud, t 






Thysel, 






thyself/ 




Tdl't, I 






Timmcr 


ti'mlvr. 




Tine, to 


lose ; T 




Tinkler, 


a tinker 




Tint the 


gate, lo 




Tip, a r 






Tippenc 


, twope 




Tirl, to 


make as 


ight noise ; 






Trig, spruce, neat. 
Trimly, excellently. 

Trowt'h, truth, a petty oath. 
Tryste, an appointment , a fair. 
Trysted, appointed ; To tryste, 



hide, of which in old times plough- 



Quantity, a penny worth. N. B. One penny 

Enjrlish is 12d. Scotch. 
Twin, to part. 
tyke, a dog. 

U 

UNCO, strange, uncouth ; very, very great, 
prodigious. 

Unken'n'd, unknown. 
Unsicker, unsure, unsteady. 
Unskaith d, undamaged, unhurt. 
Unweeting, unwitt ngly, unknowingly. 
Upo*. upon. 
Urchin, a hedgehog. 



VAPRIN, vapouring. 



Wajna, would not. 



LOSSAKY. 
Wamefu', a belly-full. 



Wauble, to swing, to reel. 
Waught, a draught. 
Waukii, thickened aa fullers do cloth 
Waukrife, not apt to sleep. 







Weelfi. 


Uo 




shall. 


•A h 




wheeze 



Wheep, to fly nimbly, jerk; pern 
Whase. whose. 



Whid, the i 



n of a har 



frighted ; 
Whiddin, running as a hare or eon; 
Whigmeleerios, whims, fane es, cri 
Whingin, crying, complaining, fret 
Wh.rligigums, useless ori.amenls, I 

pendages. 
Whissle, a whistle ; to whistle. 
Whisht, silence ; to hold one's Wh 

Whisk.'to sweep, to lash- 



BURNS.- GLOSSARY. 



w 


;;;"!■;■ 






w 


l!'/to"i 






w 




\i 












w 


ntU, a 



Win, to winnow. 



Wordy, worthy. 
■\Vcrs2 , worsted. 


e or W end 


r. 


Yird, ea 
YoureeJ, 


Wraith, a spirit, or ghost ; an 
actly like a living person, whc 
is said to forbode the persot' 


apparition 

" appears 


ing 


Yowe, a 
Yuk, e c 



GLASGOW; 



61* 



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